What The Thunder Said
by CelticPride vs8
Summary: Following the events immediately after Angel Season 5 and one year after Buffy Season 7. Warnings for strong language, sexual situations and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Los Angeles 2004 – The Alley North of The Hyperion

The battle is raging all around them as Illyria sidesteps the sword-strike from her closest opponent and brings her booted foot down hard on the blade as the demon grounds the tip of his sword into the cement. The blade snaps like twig and Illyria punches her assailant in the throat with concussive force, sending him hurtling back and into the advancing demons like a thunderbolt.

Angel blocks high with his sword, catching the down-stroke of an axe on the blade and sending a shower of sparks to the ground. He shifts to the right, side-kicking the axe wielder and knocking him off balance. He follows through with a lightning-fast backhanded sweep and the demon's head rolls away as two more of its brethren charge him.

Gunn slips on the slick cement, unwittingly avoiding decapitation as another of the attackers swings its axe in a broad arc from behind him. Gunn hears the whistling noise above the sound of the down-pouring rain and stabs up and backward, planting his sword blade deep in the guts of the would-be back-stabber. He rolls forward, drawing the sword out of his victim and then engages two more with a whirling attack, grunting in pain as the front of his shirt grows redder by the moment.

Spike catches an attacker's upraised arm in his free hand and neatly pierces it through the chest with his own sword. He plants a foot on the skewered demon and pushes him away, yanking the blade free as he does so. Two more demons spring at him and he ducks one swing and parries another, being driven back despite his best efforts to hold his ground. His features have shifted to their demon form and he collides with something and from long experience, instinctively knows that he's back to back with Angel. Several demons rush forward and he can hear the other vampire yell, "Budapest!" above the clash of combat. Spike reaches back immediately and grabs Angel's free arm, spinning as he does so. Angel duplicates Spike's action and the two vampires swing their sword-arms in a whirling back-handed arc, sending several heads rolling away as their blades whistle through the air. Spike catches a glimpse of Gunn leaning heavily against the wall as the second wave of attackers charge down the alley. None of them were 100 when the fight started and grimacing at the odds, Spike decides that they probably won't live through the second assault. He grips his sword hilt tightly and moves forward to meet the charge when the air ripples behind him. A massive energy blast hurtles past the survivors and smashes into the charging horde in front of him. The demons scream in pain and rage as their front rank dissolves under the impact of the blast.

Both Angel and Spike freeze and then exchange a look when their surprise is interrupted by a mewling screech from above them. The dragon swoops low, its massive jaws agape as it bellows a deafening roar, its huge scaly form driving through the torrential rain and coming in for the kill. Angel cocks his arm and hurls his sword directly at the beast's open mouth with the last of the borrowed strength from Hamilton's blood. The blade rotates twice in the air before slamming into the dragon's upper palate, slicing through the tough flesh and lodging deep in its brain. The beast veers violently to the right, its body crashing into the side of the hotel and rains bricks down into the mouth of the alley. It seems to stagger in mid-air and tries to flap its wings to drive itself upward but then it seems to stall in mid-air and with a horrible shriek, it crashes to the earth, smashing a crater into the cement of the alley and finally twitches briefly before it becomes still.

"Nice throw pop," Connor's voice opines from behind them. The four remaining Champions whirl to see Connor standing beside Faith and Willow, the Slayer with a long bladed dagger in either hand, and the witch's eyes, black and oily looking. Willow raises her arms again and sends another blast down the alley, driving the remaining demon hordes farther back.

"Red? Faith?" Spike stammers in shock. "Come for the fun, have you?"

"I met them outside the Wolfram & Hart building," Connor explains, stooping to lift one of the slain demons' swords. "They were looking for dad and I figured this was where he'd probably go as a last resort."

"Connor, get out of here!" Angel shouts, his eyes wide with sudden fear. "Son, please! Get out while you can!"

"We're all going," Willow says in a low voice, the whole of her eyes still black and glittering in the dim light of the alley. She mutters again and a curtain of energy suddenly envelopes the mouth of the alley, temporarily halting the increasingly furious demon horde. Several of them crash into it but an earth-shaking bellow draws them away as a massive demon, at least three stories tall, approaches the barrier. "And it had better be fast before Kong there decides he wants in."

"What?" Angel glares at the witch and then shakes his head angrily. "No way, this is where it ends." He turns to face the mouth of the alley as the gigantic demon hits the barrier. The force of the impact causes the barrier to shudder, but it manages to hold. Willow spasms from the impact and blood flies from her nose. Angel turns back to the mouth of the alley, gripping the hilt of his sword grimly. "I came here to fight."

"You can't fight that," Illyria tells him coldly. She grabs his arm. "That is a Malgor; fighting it is like fighting gravity. You will perish within seconds."

"Sounds about right," Angel agrees, shaking off her hand. He picks up a second sword and grits his teeth. "But I'll give it something to remember me by."

"Oh to hell with this," Faith says in a voice laden with frustration. She grabs the exposed end of a piece of rebar protruding from the wall and pulls mightily. It comes free with a horrible groan, a large chunk of concrete still affixed to its end. The Slayer shifts her grip and swings it hard into the back of Angel's head, felling the vampire like a sandbag. She picks the unconscious vampire from the ground and looks at the others grimly. "Where to?"

"Bugger, why didn't I think of that," Spike mutters under his breath. He looks over at Gunn who is still conscious but fading fast. "Where to Charlie? It looks like it's time for a strategic retreat."

Gunn opens his mouth but another crash drowns him out as the Malgor hits the barrier again. Willow jerks violently, nearly falling, but Connor catches her and sets her back on her feet. Gunn shakes his head and gestures to the Hyperion. "Inside. The hotel. Sanctuary spell."

"Right," Connor moves to the wall and goes to break down the door when Gunn stops him.

"I have keys you know," Gunn gasps. He takes a ring from his pocket and tosses them to the younger man. "The one with the blue tab."

Connor fumbles the keys for a moment and then opens the heavy metal door. The others head in just as the Malgor shatters the barrier and the demons start flooding the alley again. He pulls it closed just as the first echelon reach it. The sound of them pounding on the heavy iron door echoes through the deserted hotel and Connor looks around at the strange/familiar surroundings. "I think we need a new plan."

"No shit Sherlock," Faith shakes her head and heads down the service hall to check the lobby. The cast-iron roll-down shutters and heavy iron bars that Angel had installed when they had moved to Wolfram and Hart appear to be intact. The dull red glow of the emergency lights make the rain water running from her face and hair look like dripping blood to the others.

"You clocked him pretty good there luv," Spike remarks admiringly, studying the unconscious Angel as he slips two cigarettes between his own bloodied lips and lights up. He passes a second one to the Slayer and gives her a wry smile as she lights it. "Something happen between you two that I should know about?"

"Hopefully she didn't get him _too_ good," Gunn comments dryly. His voice is wan and shallow . Illyria is tending to his assorted wounds, and it is sufficient to say that she lacks a woman's gentle touch. "We're going to need him for when the Senior Partners catch wise and crack through Lorne's sanctuary spell." He grimaces as Illyria touches one of his many wounds and looks around the musty lobby. "Or, you know, if we ever need food that's not Sweet 'n Lo."

"He'll be fine," Faith murmurs absently, not much sounding as though Angel's plight is of much concern to her. She is pacing the floor, arms crossed over her chest and she isn't even looking at Angel's prone form sprawled over the couch; her eyes are on the large doors, and the uncertain future beyond them.

"Can't you just like, check his pulse or something?" Connor asks. "What's the big deal?"

"Uh, vampire remember?" Spike answers dully. "We're dead. No convenient vital signs. Besides, if your pop here was a goner there'd be nothing left but a little patch of dust."

"Oh, right. That must be weird." He eyes the opaque swirl of Spike's cigarette furl around the vampire's platinum blonde head. "How do you smoke if you don't breathe?"

"Where's Wes and Cordy?" Willow asks looking around the group. The silence that greets her question is answer enough. "Oh, damn."

"He's waking," Faith says quietly. Everyone turns to look at her.

"Oof," says Angel, and everyone turns to look at him. He sits up slowly, flinching and bringing a hand to his head. "What the - where are we?" He straightens and looks around him. "What the - we left? There's a fight left out there damn it, we have to -" He starts to rise but Illyria strides over and clamps a hand on his shoulder, slamming him back to the couch, suggesting that he may still be weak from his head injury.

"Sit down," Willow suggests quietly, turning to lock her eyes on Angel's.

He narrows his eyes. "You," he growls. "This is your doing. Look, Willow, it's been fun, but I have to get back -" He starts to rise again.

"Sit down," Faith tells him without looking at him. Angel sees the Slayer for the first time and moves to get up but Willow raises her hand palm up and hits him in the stomach with a small matter transference spell. He falls back into the couch, glaring at Willow petulantly.

"Listen, you two," he growls. "I don't have time for your bullshit right now. My fight is out there, I have to -"

"Sorry for breaking up your evening's plans or whatever, but we came to ask for your help and don't have a lot of time for macho crap. And I figured it would, you know, be a lot harder for you to lend a hand if you were all dead," Willow interjects herself between the Slayer and the now very irritated vampire.

Angel sneers. "And by you asking for my help, I assume you mean that the Watcher's Council is asking for my help." He rises, shooting Willow a warning glance, "Put the magic wand away Sabrina. One more of those mystic nudges and I may get testy."

"Actually, I'm the one doing the asking," Faith tells Angel evenly, brushing past the witch to make herself front and center in the vampire's gaze.

"And why should I help the Council?" Angel asks, his voice now tinged with a note of vindictiveness. "I mean, with all the help they've given me this year, I'm not really seeing much of an incentive."

Willow forgets the bantering and looks at the vampire questioningly. "What are you talking about?"

After a moment of Angel's eyes scouring Willow's face, he nods to Illyria. "That kind of help."

Willow's facial expression is now fraught with the genuine confusion. "What? It's Fred! Fred with kind of a new dominatrix-y thing going on but, hey, who hasn't done that and . . ." Her voice begins to very slowly lose its upbeat tone, in direct correlation to how much her forehead creases. ". . . and maybe she's looking a bit pale and . . . blue-" She trails off. "Crap. What happened?"

Angel is too busy glowering to answer her. Spike, however, is happy to fill her in. "Ancient deity snuck inside her body."

"It burned her out from the inside," Gunn says in a pained voice. "She's just using Fred's body as a shell."

"Fred's gone … dead." Angel concludes, the fire of anger in his voice replaced by a kind of exhausted grief.

Willow looks around at all of their bereaved faces, and then to the smooth, emotionless face of Illyria. She allows her jaw to drop, horrorstruck. "Oh … I … I had no idea." Angel's eyes narrow to anger again. "Really, Angel, no one told me. I had no idea. I'm so sorry." She looks around at the faces again and now her lips tighten as she notices the missing faces. "Is it true about Wes and Cordy?" she asks quietly. Again, silence greets her and Willow feels real pain in her own chest. "We really have lost touch."

Angel surveys her coldly before speaking. "So you can understand my not leaping at the chance to help you."

Willow sighs, irritated. "Look, I liked Fred a lot, and Wes and Cordy and all of you, and I feel horrible that this has happened to her. But you can't ignore your calling because -"

"My calling," he roars, "is out on those streets!"

"You're a pile of dust in about 30 seconds of you're out on those streets," Faith counters softly.

He swallows thickly, his jaw going tight. "Maybe. But, I have to -"

Spike raises his hand. "If I might interject here, I'm quite okay with not being dead … well, again at any rate." He dips his head to the witch, Faith and then Connor. "Red, psycho, tiny Angel, kudos for the ass-saving."

"Ditto," Gunn agrees. "I don't like walking out on a fight either, but I'm liking this whole still-alive thing. And we did it Angel. We took down the Circle. What's the point in dying now?"

Angel makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "It's not about dying! It's about the fight, and -"

"What fight?" Faith interjects forcefully, anger coloring her tone now. "All I saw was a massacre waiting to happen. You can't win out in that alley Angel. No one could. You used to be smarter than that."

"I also agree that this is preferable to death," Illyria comments absently. "Death is much more stagnant than this." She pauses. "And devoid of Crash Bandicoot."

Angel huffs. "Look, I have to go back, I have to finish this -"

Faith eyes him oddly. "It's okay that you're not dead, Angel," she says quietly. "You don't have to die to have won."

He doesn't say anything, just looks down at the floor with a concentration that suggests that he can't see it at all.

"I'm kinda glad you're not dead, if it helps," Connor says softly. "That's, you know, why I let her clobber you upside the head."

Angel looks up at his son, his expression showing that he is mildly surprised that his son is there with him. In his anger he'd forgotten. He begins to speak, but Willow cuts him off.

"Look, Angel," she says. "It's over here. Your fight _here_ is finished. But the war, the one that we've all fought for the past eight years . . . I know it may not matter to you that we need you, and it sure as hell doesn't matter to you that the Council needs you." She pauses, studying his face. He is listening passively, which - while not really the get up and go vigor that she would like to see- isn't blind anger, so she decides to count it as a win until Faith interrupts her.

"I need you." The Slayer pauses before continuing. "And Buffy needs you. The _world_ needs you and your ashes being flushed down a gutter in the rain out there doesn't help anyone."

He sighs, finally allowed his muscles to relax. It takes him a moment to speak. "Alright," he says softly. "What do you need?"

Willow showers him with a radiant smile that he doesn't even pretend to return. Spike breaks into her happy triumph. "Don't mean to be a buzz-kill here, kids, but we've still got to get out of here before Angel's ex-employers find a way to beat that spell. We've got some serious evil wanting us very dead, and, as a very special bonus for us fanged types, it's going to be dawn soon."

Gunn comes to his feet, weak and wincing from his wounds but looking not the least bit worried. "No problem."

Connor regards him with disbelief. "No problem? That sounds like a lot of problem."

"We'll just take the jet," he replies.

Connor looks intrigued and turns to his father. "Jet? You have a jet?"

Spike snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure the Senior Partners - they're the ones trying to kill us, remember - won't mind us nipping out in the company bird. I'm sure there'll be peanuts and mimosas."

Gunn smiles. "Technically, Angel is still the CEO of the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart. His contract specifically says that he is free to kill all the outside demons that he wants and any employees of the Senior Partner's in self-defense so he hasn't technically violated that contract. We should have no problem gaining access to the company jet."

Connor beams at Angel. "It is _so_ cool that you have a jet."

Angel hazards a half smile at his son.

Willow speaks up cautiously. "I don't know if I can keep a protection spell as powerful as we'll need up long enough for us to get to the airport."

Gunn smiles again. "Not a problem. There're a million ways to get out of this place without the baddies catching the wiser."

"Hey, I remember that," Connor comments as Gunn leads them to one of the million ways of getting out of the Hyperion without catching baddies the wiser. The boy turns his attention to Angel coming up behind them. "Do you think I could fly the jet for a bit once we're in the air?"

"No offense Connor, but in my timeline you're still toilet-training. I'm not sure I'm ready for you to pilot a jet."

"Oh, come on!"

"I . . . we'll see."

He grins. "Awesome."

**Part 1**

_Ghosts of the Machina_

London 2004 - Head Quarters of the Council of Watchers

Rupert Giles curses under his breath as the pile of paperwork on his desk teeters and spills to the floor. All he'd done was reach for his teacup when his elbow has jostled the stack of folders for the briefest of seconds and sent the whole bloody thing to the floor. He stakes off his glasses and rubs his eyes briefly before punching the intercom on his desk. "Meghan? Could you come in and assist me for a few moments? I need some help sorting some things out."

"Certainly Mr. Giles," Meghan's voice is crisply professional and seconds later come three brisk knocks at the heavy oak doors of his office before his assistant walks in. Everything about Meghan screams efficiency, from her sensible low heels to the immaculate crease in her slacks, right down to the perfect sweep of every strand of her silver hair into its sensible bun at the back of her head. She makes an admonishing cluck with her tongue as she sees the scatter of papers all over the floor and in seconds she is knelt down among them, sorting with an almost ruthless speed and grace.

"Thank you Meghan," Giles sighs. From the moment she'd been assigned to him he'd felt like an inept schoolboy in her presence. He'd forgotten just how intimidating a proper British matron could be after all of his time in America. His mother had been one of those women and more than anything else, this had driven his youth towards the black-arts.

Despite his best efforts, Rupert Giles had never grown to like rules. His uncle, Everett Giles had tried to interest the bright young man in Shakespeare, Victor Hugo, Alexander Dumas and Robert Louis Stevenson as a child and young Rupert had taken quite fond of the stories his uncle had told him at bedtime, despite his mother's firm stance that such tales were nonsense and of no use to the boy. The tales had been full of swordplay, good versus evil, daring and adventure; capturing the young man's mind like a moth to a lamp before he'd grown to adolescence. Reading under his blankets late at night had shifted to playing guitar and listening to The Who and Pink Floyd on an old Delco record player he'd salvaged from the attic as the young Rupert Giles had reached his teens however. When he had reached the age of 18 his uncle had let the young Rupert in on a secret, a secret that not many young men or old were privy to. Monsters and magicks were real. All the old stories of the boogie-man under the bed and the trolls under the bridge turned out to be not as absurd as one might think. He began to study voraciously and by the time he was 21, "Ripper" as he was known to his friends had been the leader of a East-side London gang of youths known as the "Disciples of Eyghon"; a group of brash young men and women who had dropped out of Cambridge and were doing their level best to create a niche for themselves in the London underworld by exploiting the darker side of what they had learned in secret from men who called themselves "the Watchers".

One night, sitting in a pub in Soho, Ripper was sipping absently at a pint of bitter stout and listening to his best mate Ethan Rayne espouse on what was to take place later that evening. "Ripper mate, if we can nail down that last hieroglyphic we can be coasting a wave of euphoria by sunrise." The lanky Rayne slipped into the booth in the back of Fiddleman's Pub with the grace of a seal sliding into the water off of an ice floe. "Everyone's in. Phillip, Deidre, Randall, all of us." Rayne sighs contentedly into his pint of malt. "All we need is a go-ahead."

"Right," Ripper sips at his Guinness and nods fractionally, allowing a few stray strands of his hair to fall down into his eyes for effect; more a Sid Barrett than Keith Moon look, he thinks. "It ought to be a lot more stable with the five of us than when it was just you and I."

"Never picked you for the orgy type Ripper," Rayne grins at his friend as the band on the tiny stage of the pub strike up a new tune. "But you're right. Strength in numbers helps beat back the bloody Hun, what?"

Ripper laughs, and just then another young man with sandy hair and crushed velvet pants arrives. "Right. Hey Ripper, we gonna really do the deed tonight?"

"All hands to it," Ethan says with a grin and a nod. Giles just cocks his head and gives the newcomer a mischievous grin.

"So we are doing it then?" the young man frowns uncertainly.

"Aye, a dangerous new past-time for some dangerous men Phillip." Rayne grins.

"You mean..." Phillip looks at Ripper and at Ethan and back again. "You two already did it? You contacted Eyghon?"

"Just a little taste," Ethan says. "Don't look so frightened, Phillip." He looks at Ripper with a gleam in his eye. "Tell the boy what it was like."

Ripper leans back and says nonchalantly, "It's a bloody trip."

Philip's eyes widen and he swallows, "Right then."

"Well look at these three sorry bastards. Grinnin' into their pint glasses and makin' up lies to tell the ladies devil a doubt. What ya all talkin' about?" A tall young man with long blonde hair asks, a good-natured smile on his face. He's accompanied by a petite brunette wearing a pillbox hat.

"Randall, nice of you to drop by finally," Ethan says sarcastically. "Was there a line up at the ladies room?"

Randall runs a hand through his long blond hair. He's a newcomer to the group, "I like to be fashionably late. Keeps folk interested."

"Wouldn't that require you to be fashionable on occasion?" Ripper jabs.

The brunette snickers and Ethan snorts, "Good one, mate."

"What? You're worse," Ripper tells him. "I seem to recall a pair of white and black striped pants that you picked up after that Lou Reed concert last year."

That sets the group off. Ethan's taste, or lack of, was always a topic of great amusement. Ethan glares at his friend, "Sod off, Ripper." The laughter dies down and the others watch as the two glower at each other. An easy smile is displayed across Ripper's face, but his eyes are set in a stone serious gaze, the smile not touching them at all. Ethan returns the stare, but after a moment his eye twitches. He knows better than anyone, not to get in a fight with Giles. Soft tone of voice aside, then man had a volcanic temper and Ethan didn't fancy getting the shit beaten out of him tonight. The band on stage strikes up a cover of a Roger Daltrey song.

_Can you see the real me? Can you, can you?_

Ethan scoffs, then jabs Ripper in the shoulder, "C'mon lad. Y'know it's all in fun."

Ripper nods and the group seemed to let out a collective sigh. "Well then," Randall clasps his hands together, "Shall we get on then?"

The black haired man nods. "Hey, are we doin' it now?"

Ripper shakes his head, "Later. Now's no good."

"Why not?" Ethan challenges. Not the smartest move.

"It's just not," Ripper tells him, a warning tone to his voice.

Just then a gorgeous black girl of about 17 with slanting eyes and impossibly pouty lips sidled up and took Giles' arm warmly in her hands. "I thought you said that you were coming here to meet me," the words slip through her mouth like perfumed oil as her dark eyes sparkle briefly in the dim and smoky room.

Ripper looked up at her and smiled slowly before turning back to the group at the table.  
"Maybe later, Phillip," he tells the other man before locking his eyes back with Ethan's and then rising.

"Hello Olivia. Right. Later then" Rayne says evenly. His eyes don't flinch from Giles'. He then nods to the dance floor. "You two should dance. Ripper likes this song."

_The girl I used to love lives in this yellow house_

_Yesterday she passed me by,_

_She doesn't want to know me now _

_Can you see the real me? Can you, can you?_

Ripper looks at her and relents, "Fine." He glances at Ethan once more while Olivia leads him away, through the smoke. The others sit around.

"What's with Rupert t'night?" the Deidre asks Phillip.

"Dunno," he replies shortly, his eyes following Ripper and Olivia to the tiny dance-floor. "And you should call him Ripper," Ethan says after a moment.

"S'cuse me?" Randall asks, a little chuckle slipping out.

Ethan turns to the taller man, "Ripper. His name you dolt, it's Ripper."

"Ripper?" Randall repeats the name uncertainly. "Why's that?"

"Because that's who he is now. He's on a new kinda high," Ethan says, watching his two friends move together on the dance floor thoughtfully. After a second he shakes his head and then grins up at Randall. "What say I pummel you at darts again Randall? Do I need to spot you points again or did you finally leave the dress at home?"

"Mr. Giles?" Meghan's clipped voice drew the Head-Watcher back to the present with a start. He looked up to see his assistant with the files all sorted and stacked neatly on the edge of the desk again. "Everything seems to be in order. Will there be anything else?"

"No, no, thank you Meghan. That's quite enough." He smiles at her and she returns it stiffly. "Any appointments this afternoon?"

"Just young Mr. Wells," the contempt in her voice barely concealed. "He's due in just a moment or two actually."

"Marvelous," Giles grumbles. "That will be all then Meghan." His assistant nods and sweeps out of the office and Giles stifles a grin as he imagines the gears and cogs whirring in his assistant as if she was some sort of secretarial automaton. His good humor is fleeting however as he remembers sourly that Andrew will be in his office in just a minute or two.

Giles had begrudgingly taken the young man in as a member of the Council more out of desperation than any desire. As Willow had quite cogently pointed out when they had recuperated from the battle in Sunnydale for a few days, there were hundreds of new Slayers that required Watcher's and hardly any of the old guard left. Andrew knew the legacy, had fought alongside them and was almost encyclopedic in his knowledge of demons and ancient languages. Plus the younger man had been so blasted eager to help that Giles had found it impossible to refuse taking him on to help with the rebuilding of the Council. What he hadn't anticipated was all of the other Sunnydale alumni scattering so quickly, Buffy and Dawn to Italy, Willow and Kennedy to South America, Robin and Faith staying in America and Xander being detailed to find, well, no one but a few key members of the Council new the exact details of Xander's mission in Africa; and he'd been left with the day-to-day charge of turning Andrew into a Watcher.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of his 2 o'clock appointment and Giles steeled his nerves for Andrew's arrival. In the young man's defense, he had immediately volunteered to retrieve Dana when Angel had called all of those months ago and his report of the activities of the Wolfram and Hart office in L.A. had left Giles with distinctly mixed feelings. It was important to retrieve the girl, but his report had been highly useful. The knowledge of Spike's continued existence had shocked all of them at the Council, but finding out that Spike was a free-lance Champion and demon-fighter now had been even more disconcerting. What the Hell were they up to there? Well that's why he'd sent Willow and Faith wasn't it? That and the fact that they were in dire need of help.

"Mr. Giles?" The door to Giles' office had swung open fractionally and Andrew Wells pokes his head in through the crack.

"Yes, right here Andrew," the Head Watcher replies tiredly and beckons the young man inside. Andrew grins and sweeps through the door theatrically, a large manila envelope in his hand and hustles across the plush carpet of the office and plumping down in the seat across from his superior's desk. Giles gives him a sour smile and leans back slightly in his expensive swivel chair. "So what news do you have for me?"

"Loads mon capitain," Andrew sets the envelope on the desk and extracts a sheaf of documents and photos from inside. "I did like you asked and contacted Commander Finn at Special Ops in Fort Bragg and he sent me everything." He gives Giles a curious look. "He wanted me to ask if you've been nuzzled to death lately. Any idea what he was talking about?"

Giles nearly spits the mouthful of tea he'd just sipped onto the desk blotter in front of him and coughs into his hand before replying. "Not a clue. Pray continue with the briefing."

"Well it seems that the subject Rayne broke out of the military facility in Nevada last September in a fairly spectacular fashion." Andrew shuffles through some of the documents, "It seems that he had lots of outside help. First they took out the power-grid for the whole facility which is no small feat since they have two redundant generators, one of which is about 40 feet below ground in a concrete sleeve with lead shield about 3 feet thick. Its supposed to be able to withstand a 10 megaton nuclear blast within 5 kilometers and EMP proof so we can rule out any conventional means. That only leaves a mystical answer." Giles grimaces and nods for the younger man to continue.

"Now if that wasn't enough, the facility is guarded my an entire regiment of marines, and the whole thing is rigged to shut down completely in the event of a catastrophic power interruption. To get to Rayne's cell would require any potential rescuer to get past several hundred armed gaurds, blast through 9 solid steel barricade doors, several more gates made of reinforced titanium bars and then manage to get him out and away before the standby units arrived from Groom Lake in Apache attack helicopters 17 minutes after the power initially went down." Andrew shakes his head admiringly. "Like I said, pretty spectacular," he pauses frowning. "Now I suppose it would be possible if you had access to some pretty hefty dark magicks, plus the eye witness reports recorded a whole platoon of these ninja looking guys running around and they cut a swathe through the marines like Jedi through Stormtroopers. Then they pull this whole Keyser Soze deal and," he holds a closed hand up to his mouth and blows into it, opening his fingers as he does so. "Like that, he's gone."

"Quite," Giles grunts, fidgeting a little. "So that's the whole report? He just vanished?"

"Well not quite," Andrew says and pulls a photo out from the pile of documents and sets it in front of the older man. "They found this in the cell." Giles leans over and examines the photo closely. It's a black and white high resolution photo of a symbol that seems to have been burnt into the solid cement floor of a prison cell. The symbol appears to be of a circle with two radial lines extending through its lower half, the one on the left that of an arrow with a barbed head and the one on the right ending with a bulbous tip. Just to the right of the arrow is a smaller circle offset from the much larger central circle.

"The Left Hand Path," Giles breathes, slightly awestruck. Andrew nods vigorously.

"Not a nice bunch," the younger Watcher says quietly. "But I thought they were Satanists? What do a bunch of Satanists want with a guy like Rayne?"

"Not Satanists Andrew," Giles corrects him. "Some Satanic groups have taken up the symbol but its origins are far older and darker than college kids playing Black Sabbath records backwards." Giles looks up from the photo and closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair again. "Like most supposedly Satanic symbols, this has its roots in a much older religion that Christianity and its original meaning was bastardized by the church. Any pagan symbols that predated Christianity were usually demonized by the church to cloud their true origins and paint any of their users and followers as heretics and Satanists. Like most faiths, the Christian churches of old were jealous masters and tolerated no rivals." He opens his eyes and taps the photo.

"This particular symbol can trace its roots back to ancient Hindu and was often associated with the cult of Thugee, worshipers of the goddess Kali. Skulls, cemeteries, and blood are associated with her worship. Images of her usually depict her as black and emaciated. Her face is blue, streaked with yellow and her eyes are ferocious. Her disheveled and bristly hair is usually shown splayed and sometimes braided with green serpents." Giles grunts again before continuing. "She wears a long necklace of human skulls or intestines and a belt of severed arms; sometimes even with children's corpses as earrings and cobras as bracelets. Her four arms usually hold either weapons or the severed heads of demons."

"I see," Andrew says quietly, his face very pale. "So this isn't good then?"

"No, I'd have to say it's very, very bad." Giles grimaces and reaches for his tea. "If the people who got Rayne out had called on the power of Kali, I'd have to say it can't get much worse actually."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

**Butswana – 2004 – 18 Days Earlier**

"The Kalahari sucks" was Xander Harris's inner mantra after eight and a half months of searching through the scrubby plains and forests along the Nossob River in the Kgalagadi region of the Kalahari Desert for the caves that Buffy had first seen in her sojourn to the time of the "primitive" as her captors had called the first Slayer. Battle hardened though he'd become after seven years of fighting evil on the mouth of hell itself, 6 weeks into living off of cooked beetles and rainwater had the ex-carpenter longing for Taco-Bell and Big Gulps despite the importance of his mission. Since the spell that Willow had cast last May had imbued so many young women with super-powers overnight, the Council of Watchers had felt it important that the source of the original legacy be protected and discovered. Some surviving members of the original Council had objected to Xander's nomination for the job of discovering the origin of such a powerful site due to his lack of formal training, but after Buffy herself had intervened on his behalf, threatening several of the elder members with no small injuries if they were to counter her wishes, he'd been unanimously approved. Giles, Willow and Buffy had wordlessly understood his need for a fresh start and a need to feel useful after Anya's death, so within days of the subject broaching at the first meeting of the new Watchers Council he'd found himself on a plane out of San Francisco to Windhoek in Namibia, alone with his grief and new determination.

"Hold up," Xander says quietly, shaking off his thoughts and raising a hand while his good eye surveys the river bank attentively. Along the low bluffs he'd regularly observed many different types of wildlife stooped over the slow moving muddy river to drink or hunt. You could usually tell when a large animal was close by due to the decrease in noise from the smaller fauna in the area, but never had the cacophonous sound of insects and birds dropped off as sharply as it had now. His guide Oujay nods and digs his paddle deep into the muddy water, blade flush to the swirling current and bringing their small outrigger canoe to a sharp stop. With an expert stroke the small guide drives the balsa wood boat toward shore and its keel snuggles into the muddy bank as Xander continues to survey the horizon. Both Oujay and Xander have been down the river several times in the past few months but immediately following the rainy season, new tributaries had opened up allowing them life lines to explore deeper into the zone toward the lost supposedly cursed area that the locals called 'Al Hatari Bustani' or 'The Dead Garden'.

Xander leaps from the canoe into the ankle deep water and drags it up higher onto the bank as Oujay unlashes two rifles from the hull and then tosses one to Xander who nearly fumbles it into the mud before the rifle butt crashes into his big toe. Xander hops around cursing under his breath as Oujay grins and gets out of the canoe, slinging his own rifle over his shoulder. "Perhaps I should do the shooting Bwana Harris?" Xander curses again and then returns the grin sheepishly. Xander has experimented early in their acquaintance with several of Oujay's weapons, most notably his boomerang. Xander has tried mightily to master it but at the end of several days of missed targets and swearing, he'd finally thrown his own carved attempt at the ancient weapon into the river in disgust.

"What do you guys call a boomerang that doesn't work Oujay_?" _He'd finally vented in camp one night.

"A stick Bwana,"Oujay had replied without even looking up. Xander had vowed to avoid dumb questions ever since.

"Probably a good call Oujay." The one-eyed man surveys the grassy crest of the bank and then nods at his guide. Oujay steps cat-like over the mud and shale of the bank, hardly leaving footprints and Xander follows, his heavy boots making low sucking noises the mud as the two ascend the bank. Above the crest are a deep grove of African Mangosteen trees and the two men set off toward them. The sunlight is soon dappled on the forest floor as they pass through the dense flora and Xander starts violently as a gaggle of green pigeons erupt from the bows above them, chirping irritably at being disturbed. Xander notices Oujay grinning back at him again and shrugs angrily. "What? It always seems that every damn patch of forest we wander through has some toothy, slithery, poisonous, man-killing agenda so excuse me for being a little twitchy okay?"

"You say so Bwana," Oujay replies, still grinning before turning his attention back to the deepening woods ahead of them. The two make their way slowly through the wood for a little over thrity minutes, Xander beginning to regret more and more his decision to leave the river in the first place, but as Oujay had pointed out several times on earlier treks through jungle and woods, if the place they are looking for is secret then its obviously not right next to the river bank with arrows and signs was it?

"Stupid logic," Xander mutters sweating profusely in the stifling heat of the forest, and pushes aside some branches. Using his free hand he swats at the air in a futile effort to fend off a swarm of gnats that had descended on them a few minutes earlier. He flails a little more violently at the nasty little biting creatures and takes a step to the side when he feels his legs shoot out from under him and with a scream he is rocketing down a steep embankment that had been hidden from them by the dense foliage. "Shhhhiiiiiiit!" he screams futilely as his body crashes down through the underbrush violently, coming to a halt with bone-rattling force against a fallen tree at the bottom. Cursing feebly, he gets to his feet, grimacing at the pain in his left leg where he had hit the tree. He surveys the area in front of him which is vastly different from the dense forest he had just left. The valley he finds himself in is mostly rock and sand with stubby plants growing through the shale and gravel. Ahead about two kilometers are a series of low hills, dotted with a few Joshua trees and massive boulders. After a moment he hears rustling above him and looks back to see Oujay picking his way carefully down the steep slope he's just tumbled down.

"B'shwala," the guide mutters as he arrives at the bottom of the slope and surveys the hills ahead. "These are not on the maps." He takes off his rucksack and opens the straps, rooting inside. He pulls out a long chart tube and opens the lid, shaking the map out and then kneels and unrolls in on the ground. Xander squats beside him to take a look. "See here Bwana Harris," Oujay traces the length of the river with his finger and the tributary they had followed and finally to an area of dense forest on the north bank. "This is where we came to shore. Now see here," He traces his finger a few kilometers north and along the route they had entered the wood. "All through here is heavy forest, a few clearings and some waterholes for the Hunti, the buffalo." He then traces his finger slightly west and indicates a dark green patch. "All this is supposed to be jungle, dense forest."

Xander gives him a puzzled look. "You must be looking at the wrong place Oujay." The carpenter looks around and sweeps his arm gesturing across the shale and dirt plain leading to the hills. "The whole area is barren," Xander pauses suddenly, a thought taking hold and when he looks back at the guide he sees Oujay grinning at him excitedly.

"Han Bwana," the guide is nodding vigorously, "Barren. Dead. What is supposed to be a lush garden is dead."

"The Al Hatari Bustani," Xander breathes, feeling his own excitement start to rise in his chest despite the inhospitableness of the land ahead of them. "Come on," Xander gets to his feet quickly, the pain in his leg forgotten and sets out at a quick pace across the plain toward the low hills ahead. Oujay catches up with him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Xander turns to see the guide frowning.

"What Oujay? This could be it! We should hurry up so we can check it out and get back to the river before dark."

"Han Bwana Harris, but wait one moment." Oujay opens his rucksack again and takes out a pair of binoculars. He raises them to his eyes and begins scanning the hills ahead. "Unafirwa," Oujay mutters and Xander raises an eyebrow. He'd been in Africa long enough to recognize the filthy phrase and wonders with a growing sense of uneasiness what had caused his normally well-spoken friend to use it. The guide lowers the binoculars and hands them to Xander without taking his eyes off the spot he'd surveyed. "Look there," he gestures to the largest of the hills and Xander holds the binoculars up to his eyes. He surveys the rocky slope and then as he lowers the field glasses to look toward the hill's base it feels like an icy hand closes over his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Two stone figures are seated near what looks like the mouth of a cavern in the hillside. Both look like squatting demons, with long snakelike hair falling over their shoulders and long triangular faces with stone tongues lolling from a mouth full of carved fangs. Around each of their necks are what look like garlands of human skulls. Xander tears his eyes from the binoculars and turns to see his guide looking back at him with a grim expression. Oujay's dark eyes are normally cheerful and lively but now they look hard and inscrutable.

"I think we should not go any farther today Bwana Harris." Almost as if it had been planned a carrion bird screeches in the distance, its blood-curdling cry echoing amongst the shale and stone of the plain like distant banshees. Xander feels a chill go up his spine despite the one-hundred degree plus heat of the day. He turns back to look at the hill and notices how the low sun in the sky casts ominous shadows that stretch down from the hills and the larger stones towards them like dark fingers reaching across the plain.

_This is wear dark magic was born_, Xander thinks to himself. _Here, or somewhere very close, this is where they did it. This is where they made her. The first Slayer. _Again, the carpenter shivers and even though he knows its almost certainly his own heartbeat in his ears, he could swear he hears a faint rhythmic throbbing of ritualistic drums; low and menacing, like the footsteps of some massive beast approaching. He gives his head a shake and chastises himself mentally in his grown-up voice. _Dammit, you've been in more terrifying places then this. Quit acting like a kid at a campfire after the last ghost-story._ But then there's the other voice. The younger voice that knows the stories are real, the voice that knows about the boogey-man and the monsters under the bed. Xander trusted this voice and it was telling him quite plainly that he was on the rim of something very old and very malignant; a cancer of evil that had infected this place millennia ago and never left. _Get out_, this voice was telling him. _Get the fuck out and paddle your ass home as fast as you can_. A second spine-chilling cry from the distant vulture decided it.

"Right. Oujay, let's get headed out of here fast." Xander turns to look back at his guide and the relief in Oujay's face is almost comical. "I should probably report what we found before we try and approach it anyhow. There's probably stuff that we need to know before getting any closer anyhow." The guide nods vehement agreement and Oujay consults his map again.

"See here Bwana, if we skirt along here we can hit the river again without having to climb that hill you fell down."

"Good," Xander grunts. In the temporary excitement of finding what they'd been looking for all these months he forgotten about the pain in his leg from his fall. It was back now though, low and throbbing, and the thought of trying to bushwhack his way back up the steep embankment on a game leg wasn't one he'd been relishing_. Just a few kilometers along the ridge and then back up the trail a few more and we're at the river by sundown_, he thinks to himself. Their motor launch was waiting for them where the tributary branched off from the main river and in a few hours they'd be in the main cabin having a few beers and he could get on the satellite radio and let Giles know what they'd found. Just the thought of it was cheering him up already. "Okay Oujay, let's bounce.

The guide turned to look at him and Xander screamed in terror and stepped back sharply, almost falling as his heel caught on a large stone. Oujay's face was shining with sweat and his eyes were sunken and corpse-like. His normally dark brown skin was stretched and grey looking and a long tongue whipped out of his mouth like a serpent. "_This place is not for you_," a low and slithering voice said from the guide's mouth that wasn't anything like Oujay's normal voice. "_This is a place of the dead. We do not suffer the living to come here._"

"What the fuck?" Xander took another step back, his voice shrill and shaky.

"_Go now and do not return_." Suddenly a massive gust of wind swept the plain, throwing torrents of biting grit and dust into the air around them. The sky seemed to darken and Xander threw his arm up over his face to keep it from his good eye. A low shriek pierced the air suddenly and then the howls of the wind died out and he shakily lowered his arm and opened his eye to see Oujay huddled on the ground in front if him, his hands covering his face and his body shuddering convulsively.

"Oujay," Xander takes a takes a tentative step forward and touches the guide on the shoulder. Oujay jerks slightly away from his touch but after a moment the shudders seem to subside and he gets shakily to his feet. The two men look at each other wordlessly for a moment and then slowly start heading down along the line of the embankment, their pace increasing with each step so that after a moment they are making their way back to the river at a dead run.


	3. Chapter 34

**3**

**Rome, Italy - May 3rd 2004 **

Dawn Summers pushes her boyfriend Antonio playfully in the chest as he uses his lanky frame to trap her in the doorframe of the apartment she shares with her sister. His hard chest and the silk shirt that covers it feels wonderful under her hands and as he leans down to kiss her she stops pushing and slides her palms along the smooth fabric of the front of his shirt and across the muscle beneath it to his back. Her mouth meets his lightly at first, the kiss more teasing than passionate, though this changes quickly as both of them begin to flush with excitement. Finally, Dawn lets go of him with one hand and gropes blindly for the door handle. After pawing for it for a moment she finally manages to open it and the weight of their bodies causes the door to swing open far more quickly than she anticipated and the two fall in a giggling heap on the foyer floor.

"Shit!" Dawn registers the startled cry from behind her and she manages to turn onto her stomach and sees her sister in an equally compromising position on the couch, struggling up from beneath her own boyfriend and snatching her unbuttoned blouse closed in a guilty panic. Dawn starts snickering again as Antonio gets to his feet and stretches out a hand to help her up. Buffy also sits up and swats her prone boyfriend on his broad chest and the black man sighs and swings his legs down to take a sitting position as well. He gives Dawn a wink and a grin before standing and moving to stretch out a hand to her boyfriend. "You are Antonio, correct?"

Antonio takes the proffered hand and tries a guilty smile of his own. "Buonasera," the younger man says a trifle stiffly. "I have not the honor of your acquaintance."

"Oh," Dawn stammers, remembering her manners quickly. "Antonio, this is my sister's boyfriend … er," she stammers, not knowing exactly how to introduce him.

"Tim," The Immortal interjects smoothly, elegantly detaching his hand from the other man's grip. He is well over six feet tall, with a muscular upper-body but when he moves it's with the grace of a professional dancer. "My proper name is a bit ponderous I'm afraid. Shortening it is easier than explaining it." He smiles broadly at Antonio and his cheeks dimple charmingly and the Italian can't help but return it. Dawn giggles again. The Immortal's charm is legendary and though she's seen it at work before, it never ceases to amaze her how completely won over people are by him on such short acquaintance. "I understand from Buffy that you and Dawn will be attending AUR together in the fall?"

The American University of Rome was the premier English Language University in the country and Dawn's acceptance had been a source of enormous pride for both the Summers girls and the subject of multiple intercontinental phone-calls of giddy excitement the day they had received the letter, the most memorable of which had been with Robin Wood, Dawn's old principal from Sunnydale. He was in Cleveland now working as a Watcher and the call had ended abruptly when in the background Faith's voice has started shouting loud complaints about being left forgotten and apparently handcuffed to the bed.

"Si," Antonio says proudly, reaching over to squeeze Dawn's hand. "I hope to go to the American University Harvard and study medicine someday, and Father thought it best that I go to an English speaking school to prepare."

"So long as you're not playing Doctor with my sister," Buffy mutters under her breath, jabbing buttons fiercely back through their holes on her blouse. Dawn shoots her a dirty look and Buffy grumbles again and then stands and gives Antonio a lop-sided smile. "Is Antonio staying for supper Dawn?" Her voice is pleasant but her eyes clearly tell her sister that a 'no' here would be the preferred answer.

"An excellent idea Buffy," The Immortal turns to her smiling. Dawn almost laughs out-loud at the obvious lack of enthusiasm on her sister's face. The Immortal chuckles however and takes a cell phone from the pocket of his slacks and punches in a number. "Luigi? Ah yes, Giovanni, my apologies. Your wife and children are well? Excellent." The Immortal gives Dawn a wink as she lights up with recognition. "I know it's terribly late notice but could you arrange a table for four on the terrace for," he checks his watch, "8:30 perhaps? Excellent. Perhaps a bottle of the '98 Brunello di Montalcino could be opened to breathe? Giovanni, you are a prince among men." The Immortal laughs and the sound of it causes everyone else in the room to smile, even the previously non-plussed Buffy. "Give my love to Valentina. Ciao." He kills the call and hits another button. "Santino? Could you please be out front of Miss Summers' building in five minutes? Bello! Thank you Santino." He drops the phone back into his pocket gracefully before smiling at Antonio again. "If you would do me the honor of joining our table of course? The Plaza Evangelista has the finest carciofo al mattone in the city in my humble opinion." Antonio, speechless, just nods and The Immortal takes his hand again and shakes it. "I'll have my driver take you home so you can change if you wish. He'll wait for you to get ready and take you to meet us there Ovviamente." Again Antonio just nods and The Immortal whisks him to the door and before Dawn can say a word of goodbye he is ushering the younger man out the door and to the elevator.

Dawn turns to look at her sister and sticks out her tongue. "You'd think that after six months some of his manners would have rubbed off on you."

"Shut up," Buffy grumbles, still trying to get her last button done up. "And what was with the smooch-fest tumbling into the room? I thought you guys only met a few weeks ago?"

"And I suppose you two were just trading shirts then?" Dawn asks innocently, batting her eyes at her older sister. "Antonio is a gentleman Buffy. Besides, after six dates smooching is totally on the agenda. It's almost a law."

Buffy opens her mouth to reply but the strident ring of the telephone cuts her off before she can speak. Neither of them were used to the weird Italian ring-tones yet and several times Buffy had mistaken it for the doorbell. She strides over and picks it up, covering the mouthpiece and looking at her sister. "And for your information, smooching is only acceptable after the seventh date."

"And shirtless couch rugby is how many dates?"

"Smartass," Buffy mutters before uncovering the mouthpiece. "Ciao?" She listens for a moment. "Giles! … Oh, not much. Dawn is skanking it up in hallways with Italian boys apparently and Andrew headed back to London a few days ago as you're probably well aware." The Immortal comes back in at that moment and smiles at Dawn before shooting an inquisitive look at Buffy. She just smiles at him and holds up a finger. "Look Giles, I'd love to chat but Dawn and I are going out soon and …" she trails off, a furrow appearing in her brow. She moves to an end table and gets a pen and pad of paper from the drawer. "Xander's okay though right?" Dawn shoots Buffy a worried look but she just shakes her head. "Good. So when is he coming to London? … Gotcha. Yeah, Dawn and I will get some stuff packed and we'll be there Friday. See you then." Buffy hangs up the phone and is immediately assaulted by questions from her younger sister.

"What happened to Xander?" she demands.

"Xander's fine Dawn," she shoots her sister a warning look and shakes her head a fraction. "He … found something. That thing we were looking for."

"The Al Hatari Bustani," The Immortal inquires gently. He sees the shocked looks on the sisters' faces and shrugs elegantly. "I have many friends in Africa ciccina. Your friend's search has not gone unnoticed. As a matter of fact, his guide is a former employee of mine." He frowns gently and runs his thumb across the small white-gold earring in his left ear. There is an immaculate diamond stud in his right ear. "What he searches for … it is something not meant to be found." Though his English is flawless with just the slightest trace of an English accent, Dawn is once again struck by how formally he tends to speak.

"What do you know about it?" Buffy asks, a little more harshly than she'd meant to. The Immortal just smiles and motions for the two women to sit down. After they are seated he frowns slightly and speaks. "The Dead Garden is a place of great magicks. Dark magicks. It is the place that the first," He pauses and snorts in mild revulsion. "What they did to that girl … unforgivable."

"You were there?" Dawn asks incredulously.

"No Dawn," The Immortal shakes his head. Even I am not that ancient. No," his voice lowers perceptibly and his frown deepens. "But many knew the tale. The girl they called The Primitive. The first of the Slayers." He pats Buffy on the knee and then gives her a warm smile. "But how can I regret what they did when it means that I got to meet you? I am selfish perhaps." Buffy's cheeks are mantled with a furious blush from the compliment but The Immortal pretends not to notice and continues. "Such an act of cruelty and the invoking of such magicks stains a place. To purposely force such a black gift on an innocent child and create that legacy left a shadow of great evil on the place and afterward it became a temple of dark worship for many ancient tribes and demons."

"You mean that the legacy is evil? That Slayers are evil?" Buffy is frowning at The Immortal and for the first time in their acquaintance, Dawn can sense that Buffy is getting very angry with him.

"Not at all," The Immortal shakes his head. "Sometimes acts of great darkness can be necessary in war. What those men did was atrocious and Machiavellian, but sometimes the greater good must be served and balance maintained by acts of great cruelty. The act itself is what stained the place so long ago. The legacy of the Slayer itself however is a balance. A force of great good," he hesitates and again Dawn is struck by a first in her friendship with The Immortal. He seems uncomfortable. "Balance is a key feature of all things Buffy. It is the very fabric of all that we know of existence. The balance of gravity versus strength keeps us on the ground. The balance of night and day allows us to marvel at both the bliss of sunshine and the beauty of the night. The world has a way of making things balance and when we throw that balance out of whack," he shrugs again, "Sometimes the universe reacts in kind."

"You're talking about what we did in Sunnydale aren't you?" Buffy is still frowning but she looks extremely rapt by what her boyfriend is saying. "You're telling me that somehow, by expanding the Slayer legacy, we kicked some sort of cosmic teeter-totter that's now swinging up to hit us in the ass?"

The Immortal looks at her briefly and then suddenly bursts out laughing. He kisses Buffy firmly and affectionately and runs the dark flesh of his fingertips along her cheek. "You have such a way with words darling. Yes, in a manner of speaking that may be exactly what is happening."

"You should come to London with us," Buffy blurts. She senses that he's about to start laughing again but interjects. "Seriously. You know way more about this then I do apparently and you seem to have sources that the Watcher's Council won't. I'd really like you to come."

"Buffy," The Immortal holds a petulant hand out toward her and shakes his head but she cuts him off.

"I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that the Watcher's Council will hardly take the advice of someone like you and that you don't like to get involved or take sides, but I'm not asking you as a Slayer or demon fighter. I'm asking you because if you help some of my friends may be in less danger and I'm asking you because I'm your girlfriend and I need your help." Buffy lifts her chin and gazes steadily into his dark eyes.

The Immortal is silent for a moment and then nods briefly, taking her small hand into his large warm one. "I will do as you ask."

"GOOD," Dawn says in exasperation. "I was starting to think we'd _never_ eat." She gets up and hurries off to her bedroom to pick out an outfit for dinner. The restaurant was by far her favorite.

"You should start getting ready too," The Immortal says gently to Buffy. She leans over and gives him a swift kiss before sweeping off to her own room to change. The Immortal watches her lithe form disappear behind her bedroom door and sighs. He removes his phone from his pocket and dials another number. "Bennici? We have a problem."

**4**

**Cleveland Ohio – May 3rd, 2004**

Faith had started days a lot worse but Sunday in her lexicon was supposed to be about rest, sex, football on TV, sex, a nap, dinner, more football, sex and sleep. She shot a filthy look at Robin who was riding a bicycle along side her and the three other Slayers as they jogged along the beach of Lake Erie at 8 a.m. that morning. Protecting a Hellmouth wasn't supposed to be fun, but as a senior Slayer she'd at least figured that she'd get Sundays to loaf_. Robin's the fucking Watcher after all_, she thought as she secretly wished for a cigarette. _Why the hell am I stuck with Slayer-sitting with him_? Well at least they were planning on going to the Browns game that afternoon. _Beer and hotdogs solve a lot of problems, even if it's not a Sox game, _she thought to herself, grinning in spite of the early hour. Her trainees were keeping up nicely and truth be told, it was Robin on the bike that was starting to look tired. _Shit, we've only done 5 miles_, she thought maliciously and picked up the pace, forcing her boyfriend to speed up as well. Her fellow Slayers were keeping up nicely and Faith was starting to think that maybe she and Robin could slink away to Vegas for a few days. Despite the gutting it had taken last year, the Watcher's Council still had massive connections in all kinds of legal circles and after turning herself back in to the police following the destruction of Sunnydale, her previous murder conviction had suddenly found itself under review and the authorities had become miraculously accommodating, ruling a self-defense verdict in her case. Suddenly Faith Lehane went from convicted murderer to upstanding citizen overnight, her prison-break being conveniently forgotten. Angel had seen to that.

Out of all the Sunnydale survivors, only she and Willow seemed to be convinced of Angel's motives in taking over the most notorious demon law-firm in the western hemisphere. Of course, she was the only one who knew why. Somehow, everyone seemed to have forgotten about Angel's son Connor. Faith, being more criminal minded than the rest of the gang, had understood that somehow this mass amnesia must have been linked to his deal with Wolfram and Hart. Only she seemed to remember the events of the previous year and she correctly assumed it was because that when she had taken her trip down memory-lane with the vampire, she had inherited _his_ memories and as such was somehow exempt from whatever mojo the firm had worked to eliminate those events from everyone else. Trusting the vampire as she did, she had felt no need to illuminate the rest of them for his sake. In this regard, she had come to respect Willow all the more. Despite the fact that the witch was obviously under the same thrall as everyone else, her loyalty to Angel as a friend and Champion was something that Faith could appreciate. It was the witch that had urged Faith to call Angel and have the Wolfram and Hart lawyers work her jail-break case. Within days it was resolved and she'd gotten a passport in record time to link up with the rest of the gang in England.

The rest was history. Robin had kept his word and Faith had found herself in an entirely new situation; that of a woman in love. The Watcher was extremely patient with her own initial standoffish-ness and at the same time was not afraid to call her on her own bullshit. The two had spent several happy months combing the globe for new Slayers and when Faith had volunteered to return to the states and work in Cleveland to guard the new Hellmouth, Robin had elected to come with her and train a batch of the newbies as a full blown Watcher. There had been growing pains of course and Faith certainly wasn't the type to get giddy over a guy, but over the past year her and Robin's relationship had turned from one of animal sex (though _that_ was still there, and in full force too) to one of partners. Real partners. Robin seemed to value her toughness and frank opinions, and she has learned to respect his intelligence and advice as they worked to train the new Slayers. Plus the animal sex was _great_.

Faith pulls up just as it looks like Robin may actually collapse and turns to the three other girls grinning evilly. "Well the original plan had us going to the gym next and practicing take-down techniques but since its Sunday and your Watcher looks like he's about to puke up an organ or two, I think you should all go home and get some rest." Wood shoots her a grateful glance as he wobbles up on the bicycle and nearly falls off of it next to them. One of the Slayers who was also from Boston originally gives Faith a grin and swats Robin on the ass as he staggers past them to the boardwalk to sit on its edge.

"What time tomorrow Skip?" she asks with a wink.

Taryn has started the habit of calling Faith 'Skipper' which has since shortened to 'Skip' almost upon their first meeting in South Boston and the rest of the girls had taken it up. The nickname had made Faith feel decidedly uneasy and fiercely proud at the same time. She still felt very uncomfortable in a leadership role but the girls seemed to idolize her and the occasional visits from Willow and Giles who were now Deputy-Head and Head of the Council of Watchers respectively, praising her training techniques and leadership had helped a great deal to boosting her confidence. Even the one visit they'd received from Buffy who was a living legend in the eyes of her students had ended with Buffy remarking that Faith seemed to be doing a remarkable job with the girls. Not all of her reviews were quite so flattering however. These reviews tended to be a small voice in the back of her mind that sounded remarkably like Richard Wilkins. She had heard it whispering to her the other night when she'd been brushing her teeth in the mirror of the bathroom in her and Robin's apartment_. They'll never trust you Firecracker. Not the way I did. Not when It's just you and me, alone with what we did together, all the hate and rage. You'll never be a part of them Faith. Not like you want to be. And here we are, together again. Just us, cold, alone and afraid of the dark_.

Faith shook off the memory and grinned at the younger Slayer. "Better make it after two Taryn," she jerks a thumb at Robin who is now sitting on the edge of the boardwalk, gasping for air. "It looks like Robin will need most of today and tomorrow morning to recover."

"Deal," Taryn and the other girls head up the beach toward where Angela, the oldest of the new Slayers, had parked her Jetta earlier. Faith heads to the boardwalk and takes a seat next to her still-gasping boyfriend.

"You gonna make it gramps?"

Robin gives her a wry look and runs a hand over his sweaty face. "Second-hand smoke isn't going to help you know," he gives her a disapproving look as she lights a cigarette and blows a fragrant cloud into the spring breeze.

"You'll manage," she opines curtly, relishing the warm spring morning in spite of herself. The morning sun feels good on her shoulders and the lapping of the waves on the newly thawed lakeshore is soothing. She stretches catlike when the cell phone on her hip starts going off with a strident ring. It's a Giles ring. She frowns and removes it from the waistband of her tear-aways and flips the phone open. "Hi Giles." She listens intently and then swats Robin on the shoulder who leaves off thinking about dry-heaving and gives her a questioning look. "He did? And then what happened?" Her frown deepens and Robin could swear he heard her mutter an obscenity under her breath. "What time? Okay, Friday it is. Bye." She closes the phone and gives Robin a wry smile. "How do you feel about a weekend in London?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 5 and 6

**5**

**Rio de Janeiro – May 3rd, 2004**

"Good, good, Anastasia," Willow urged the young witch. The young woman she was coaching had her eyes tightly shut, and a look of her intense concentration on her face as she willed the petals of the rose she was controlling to sweep a small scattering of sand on the table in front of her into a tiny pile. The silky and delicate ends of the flower brush the grains gently, neatly piling them for disposal when Kennedy suddenly bursts into the room, disrupting the process and causing Anastasia to send the plant hurting across the room, its flower exploding in a puff of red petals against the cool stone of the Hacienda's wall. Kennedy however, is unabashed and gives the Deputy Head of the Council of Watchers her 'this is important" look. Willow sighs resignedly and gives the young witch a smile of commiseration. "Don't worry Anastasia, we'll try again next week." Anastasia nods and gives her instructor a curtsey before shooting Kennedy an evil look. The Slayer just waits patiently as the young witch gathers her books before making her way toward the steps leading through the broad garden fronting the house towards her bicycle.

When they had first left Sunnydale, Willow had been of the opinion that they should follow Buffy and continue the Scooby tradition. After finding out the massive scope of what needed to be done in the manner of finding and training the new Slayers however, she'd realized that keeping the gang together was going to be impossible. Faith had said it best during a particularly heated debate between Giles and Wesley's dad in London. The south Boston Slayer had spat copiously after a particularly pompous comment from Roger while leaning against a wall of the new HQ for the Watchers Council and fixed Roger with an insolent stare. "Sounds like you have it all planned out Roger. Now can you drop the whole fucking 'centuries of tradition' crap and get proactive? Last time I checked, you guys had managed to get your asses blown to kingdom come while sitting around debating form and policy, and we still have God knows how many super-chicks wandering around beating the shit out of people with no idea why they suddenly got all hulk-smash. So, my suggestion for what it's worth is that you stow it and start thinking about the people out there that need help instead of who sits to the right of whoever else during fucking afternoon tea."

Faith and Robin had then volunteered to head to Cleveland to look after the other Hellmouth which had been agreed upon with surprisingly little argument considering the Boston Slayer's track-record. Giles and Roger then began a whole new and not-so-polite argument about where the new Watchers just out of the academy needed to go. This had led to the next big question. While there had been virtually no debate about Giles' role as Head of the new Watcher's Council, Willow's appointment as deputy had been hotly contested. Roger Windham-Price in particular had been very vocal about it and Willow herself had initially resisted, but her recalcitrance had ended when she had confronted Giles point blank in a Council meeting a week later.

"Giles, I appreciate your faith in me, but honest, Roger is right. I have no experience, no training, nothing other than being terrified for 7 years in Sunnydale to qualify me. Why do you need me to move up so fast?"

The reply had been as simple as it was decisive, though its supplier had been a bit of a surprise. "Because he could die Red." Faith had said quietly. Everyone had looked shocked at this comment, but Faith had looked at the Head Watcher for confirmation and Giles had simply gazed steadily at the witch and nodded before repeating it. "Because I could die Willow."

Not the argument that won in a courtroom perhaps. Roger had snorted contemptuously at the suggestion that the young Wicca was a better choice as deputy then he, but it was enough for Buffy, Faith, and Giles. That had sealed it. Next had come Kennedy's invitation at the end of the meeting to spend some time in Brazil with her family and it turned out there had been a great many potentials in South America, so the two had stayed. The fact that Kennedy's parents were of the filthy-rich variety and owned a gorgeous thirteen room hacienda that overlooked the ocean and Mount Corcovado hadn't hurt, and they had quickly set up shop there as their HQ for Brazil. Giles had also liked the idea as it separated the two of them in case of a repeat of the destruction of the previous Council. Cell phones, satellite uplinks and the internet made instant and constant communication much simpler and upon reflection, the idea of a too centralized Council had made most of them nervous. Willow had recently discovered her ability to astral-project herself as well, and this allowed her to show up in Giles' office in astral form to talk strategy without the need of plane tickets or cellular towers. She'd done this once to Buffy in Rome and caught her and her new boyfriend "el flagrante" so-to-speak. Buffy had bitterly wondered aloud about posting an astral projected 'do not disturb' sign while snatching up the sheets to cover herself, but had decided on reflection that it was hardly practical. A 'call first' policy proved to be the easier solution.

Willow gazes wistfully at the small pile of dust and then pushes back from the glass-topped table and gives her Slayer girlfriend a rueful grin. "She's better then I was when I was at her level."

"Well kudos for the newbie, but I just got a call from England and it looks like we've got a trip laid on." Kennedy leans against the stone wall of the hacienda and returns her girlfriend's grin. "It looks like Xander found something down in Africa and Giles is calling an all-hands-to-the-pumps meeting to talk it over."

"He found it?" Kennedy replies with a nod and a shrug and Willow pushes her chair back from the table and looks excitedly at the small Slayer. "Really? I mean, not that I'm surprised he got it done but … wow." The ramifications start to sink in. "But this is good news right? We wanted to know where it was and to be able to explore it and protect it and … why do you have something-else-face?"

"Because it's not what we expected. At least not from what I got from Giles." The Slayer frowns. "Does he always make that clucking sound when he's nervous?"

Willow laughs and checks her watch. "Well we haven't been over for a while. We're a bit overdue for some fog and boiled beef for supper. Can you call the airline?" Kennedy nods and bends down for a quick kiss before departing. Willow sits quietly for a minute, wondering what Xander had found that would cause such a stir. She ponders projecting herself to England to ask Giles directly but finally decides that if he wanted her to do that, he'd have asked. _Well I'll find out soon enough_, she tells herself.

**6**

**LAX Airport – May 19th 2004**

The trip through the tunnels had been uneventful. Willow had healed Gunn as best she could and he'd led them down through the sewer access in the basement and after what had seemed like a maze of rights and lefts, they had emerged several blocks away from the hotel on a mostly deserted street. A homeless man had watched them come up through the manhole with mild interest before returning to his scrounging of a dumpster behind Lady Jefferson's Pitas Galore restaurant. Willow took out a cell phone and placed a quick call and the seven of them had headed up Mulcaster Drive and hung a left when a large silver utility van pulled up beside them. The sliding door opened and Angel and Spike tensed immediately for a fight, but a young Hispanic man had smiled at them politely and nodded to the witch. "Ready Ms. Rosenburg?" he asked respectfully and Willow had nodded and motioned for them to climb in. The trip to the airport passed in relative silence and soon they found themselves pulling into the private flight area of the facility. Gunn passed a card to the security guards at the gate and after they had checked it against their manifest, the van was waved through without question. They pulled up beside a Lear Jet and the steward had snapped a hasty salute to Angel as he climbed out of the passenger side of the rear of the van. A rolling staircase appeared as if by magick and within minutes they had found themselves in the cabin of the corporate jet and taxing toward a runway.

Angel glanced at the window next to him as the jet gained altitude and burst through the cloud cover into the magnificently star-cluttered sky that you only get at thirty-thousand feet above sea level or higher. His thoughts were jumbled as he tried to peace together the last few hours in his mind. He'd been prepared to die. _Not just prepared, but ready for it. Almost longing for it, _he admitted to himself. Around him, the others are rehashing the battle amongst themselves.

"-if it hadn't been raining like that, I'd _still_ be ashier than I've ever been in my life, if you feel me -"

"-and we actually saw the dragon! How cool was that?"

"-anyway, the little tot's just fast asleep and -"

"-I'm still not appeased. I feel the need for more violence."

Awash in the reminiscence of her Los Angeles counterparts, it takes Faith a long time to notice that Angel is the only one not speaking. He's leaned back against his chair, looking out the window, silent.

She calls to him, interrupting Spike's graphic retelling of his standoff with a particularly vicious member of the Fell Brethren. "Angel, you okay?"

It takes him a moment to look at her, almost like he didn't hear her voice until it echoed. "It's been a long night," he says, and turns back to the window. It's starting to turn to daylight outside.

The murmur of war stories dies down, and Spike starts going through compartments, looking for something. Finally, he comes up with a handful of tiny bottles. "Excellent," he proclaims, uncapping one and downing it in its entirety in less than a breath. "It's a long flight, kids, might as well make it drunk." He passes little bottles around the collected party. Faith takes a few for herself and pours one into a heavy glass before handing it to Angel.

"How did you know about Connor?" He asks finally after taking a small sip of the whiskey.

"Brain tour, remember?" Faith shrugs and takes a pull from her own glass before pulling out her cigarettes and lighting one, ignoring the 'No Smoking' sign on the wall beside her. "I guess since I inherited your memories, I was somehow exempt from whatever mojo you pulled."

"Right," Angel's voice is hollow and tired sounding and Faith notices with some surprise that the vampire looks older. His own words echo in her mind from all those years ago when he'd saved her from herself.

_"You feel young, do you Faith? You're looking pretty worn out to me."_

"Angel, I gotta tell you, the whole brooding thing is taking it's toll on you." She tries to keep her tone light, but the vampire doesn't even look at her and instead takes another sip from his drink. _Fuck it_, Faith thinks to herself. "Oh would you just quit being such a fucking pussy?"

This gets his attention and the vampire shoots her an angry glare. The rest of the group have quieted and are listening intently while pretending to be doing other things. Spike is blowing smoke rings and Connor and Willow are feigning interest in something Gunn was showing them in a magazine. Only Illyria is not trying to hide her eavesdropping. The demon sits perfectly erect, her grey eyes locked on the Slayer and vampire completely unabashed. Faith plunges on regardless.

"Look Angel, I don't know what the fuck happened back in L.A., and to be honest, even if I did, none of that shit matters now. I liked Fred and Wesley too." She pauses, seeing him jerk involuntarily at the names but decides to go for broke anyhow. "And the thing is, that I know what they would say if they were here. Cordy too." Angel jerks again but Faith is past caring. "They'd tell you the same thing I'm about to tell you. Suck it up and get on with the mission. Once upon a time, you were the only person in the world that believed in me. Well everyone on this fucking airplane is here because they believe in you." Spike raises a hand in objection to this and opens his mouth to speak, but a withering look from Faith causes him to close it with a snap. "Now can we cut the horseshit and make with the world saving already?"

Angel looks out the window again, the constant anger and confusion he'd been feeling since awakening in the hotel gnawing at his strongly and making him want to hit the girl in front of him. He takes another sip of his drink instead and then turns to look at her. "So what's the deal?"

"Apocalypse," Faith says simply and allows herself a grin in spite of herself. "What else is new?"

Willow interjects at this point and her words cause Illyria to stiffen visibly. "The Left Hand Path."

"Kali," Illyria says with quiet anger.

"You know about Kali?" Willow asks her with some surprise.

"Isn't Kali an Indian goddess?" Gunn asks, slightly confused.

"Goddess," Illyria scoffs. "A grandiose title for a slinking piece of offal. In my day, that entity was barely above the filth that crept at the feet of the great. A whisper of power, barely more than a shadow cast by the mighty it presumed to include itself amongst."

"Kali was an old one?" Gunn leaned forward, a puzzled look on his face. "But I thought all that was left of the Old Ones were trapped in the Deeper Well."

"Not all perhaps," Illyria frowns in disgust, "There were those among us that would wallow in the pettiness of lesser creatures. Not able to influence or contribute the great, some would languish amongst the lesser beings, rather than suffer their own mediocrity amongst their peers. This Kali was such a one, a being of little talent and less imagination."

"You two weren't bar buddies I take it?" Spike asks nonchalantly, opening another bottle and tossing back the contents. "So how does the wallowing effect whether or not this bitch is still wandering around when she should have been dead and gone since before the dinosaurs?"

"For the same reasons you are here vampire," Illyria answers coldly. "Some of us, rather than live as the Titans we were, chose to lessen themselves by blending with the cattle of humanity's beginnings. As the lesser beings emerged, so the lesser of us mingled amongst them like leeches, sucking illusions of influence and power from those that knew not what real power was, and infected the world with tales of mediocrity that none the less would seem impressive to those that existed as fleas to the rest of us ." She turns her glance to Faith and then Willow. "Even those amongst you that some would call mighty are but echoes of what we would have called powerful when the world was young."

Faith bristles at that. "I maybe understood half of that, but what jist I did catch is making me a little ornery. Watch your trap Blue, or I'll be introducing you to sky-diving the hard way."

Illyria merely shrugs at the Slayer, not in the least intimidated. "What powers remain to Kali will be beyond anything you can comprehend human. She is of a time and origin where power was something measured in destruction you can't even comprehend. If this is the same Kali that I knew so long ago, despite her lack of influence in my day, the power she can wield now would be enough to crack a continent in half with a thought."

"There's a happy thought," Gunn grumbles. He touches Faith lightly on the wrist and gives her a sour smile. "What say we all calm down and hear what she's got to say."

"It makes sense," Connor says quietly and the group turns their stares to him. "Well if you think about it, if all the demon power comes from what was left of the Old Ones here on earth, the power of Slayers must come from the same place. What if this Slayermania thing you guys did last year somehow tapped into Kali and woke it up?"

"That's what Giles thinks," Willow agrees, giving Connor a nod. "And that's why we came for you folks. We need to rally all the troops we can find."

Connor doesn't understand. "But you've got all these other Slayers out there. Shouldn't they be able to take her down? I mean, it's just a demon right?"

"No," Angel answers quietly. "That's the problem."

Spike turns his pretty blue eyes to his Grand-Sire. "Something you'd like to share, Peaches?"

"I … you guys are missing some Slayers aren't you?" Willow and Faith's silence is answer enough. "There have been very few Slayers turned into vampires," he starts slowly. "Partly it's because they die in so many other ways, or it's harder to convince them to drink . . . and partly it's because so many vampires have such pure hatred for the Slayer. But mostly, it's because the few that there have been . . . they're different. They're a different breed. They're stronger, faster, they're -"

"Know this from personal experience, Angel?" Gunn asks.

The vampire wets his lips. "Yuki Makimura was a Slayer turned by the Master of the Order of Aurelius." He pauses. "My Order." He nudges Spike a bit. "And yours, too." He shakes off the bit of familial nostalgia and continues. "The year I was turned, I met her. She was maybe a whopping twenty years older than me, and my Sire had over a century on her . . . but it didn't matter. She was like a machine. We met in the middle of France, Darla and I playing the normal game and doing our things, but she … she was burning through the towns in our wake . . . I saw her slaughter twenty armed and trained men like she swatting flies. She was ruthless, immaculate. She was more of a monster than I ever was, and that's saying something."

A brief silence follows this comment. Finally, Connor sighs and looks at the witch and the Slayer glumly. "That's it isn't it? Someone is turning Slayers into vampires?"

"Well there's maybe an army of cyborgs too," Willow adds quietly.

"Cyborgs . . . what about cyborgs?"

Willow sighs. "There appears to be a faction using cyborgs to track down and capture Slayers."

Gunn creases his brow. "Wait. We had a little confrontation with some of those guys a while back. They wanted Angel. At the time we didn't know what was going on but now you're telling us that these guys are your fault?"

Angel sighs. Talk of Wolfram and Hart is sure to exhaust him. "So what are you getting at Gunn? Why is that important?"

Gunn shrugs. "Just seems like kind of a coincidence, y'know, what with Wolfram and Hart having cyborgs troubles, and now all of a sudden, these other creeps are beaucoup with the robot mojo and we get an outlaw Old One thrown into the bargain just for kicks. It just doesn't make sense as to why."

Angel brings a hand to his brow, unable to think clearly. "Let's talk about this after the in-flight movie, okay? Is there anything with Sandra Bullock maybe?"

"Screw the in-flight movie," Spike grumbles. "There's liquor left."

"And you still haven't told me about that Buffy girl yet," Connor reminds him.

Angel groans, and Willow sneaks away to phone the Council as Connor goads his father into starting a story about a girl.

"Hello? This is Willow. We're en route . . . me and four super-beings. Not a bad haul."


	5. Chapters 7 and 8

**7**

**Toronto, Canada - May 17th 2004 **

"Bloody heathens," Ethan Rayne mutters to himself, looking morosely at the Styrofoam take-out cup in front of him. With the US military on the look-out for him, he'd crossed the border with a fake driver's license and a simple glamour supplied by his host's warlocks to match the photo less than twenty-four hours after his break out from the military prison in Nevada the previous year. Canadians, he'd learned early on, had the horrible habit of leaving the teabag in the cup when they added the milk and sugar, and the result was a horribly acrid cup of tea that you had to fish the bag out of with a tiny plastic stick that they gave you to stir. The Queen might be on their money, but they had a lot to learn about making a proper beverage.

"Something wrong Mr. Rayne?" his assistant Lawrence asks politely. The young man is eager to be certain, but not very bright, Ethan thinks.

"No Lawrence, nothing to be concerned about." He fishes the sodden bag out of his drink with a pencil and dumps it unceremoniously into the waste basket. "That will be all," he tells the younger man and Lawrence nods and closes the door of the office behind him on his way out. Ethan looks back down at the folder in front of him and takes a breath before opening it. '_Top Secret: Eyes Only Travers_' was the heading on the top page of the report. It was dated for August of 2001 and included a detailed account of the previous Watcher's Council report on all information regarding the lost location of the birthplace of the Slayer legacy. Stealing it had must have been a tricky procedure but Ethan had developed a deep respect for his new employer's methods of obtaining classified data and getting in and out of places they shouldn't be. Since they had broken him out of that god forsaken prison the previous year, the amount of information they managed to come by had staggered the Englishman. They seemed to have sources everywhere. Military, political, legal and business secrets of the highest sensitivity seemed to appear as if by magick whenever they were needed and Ethan was always very careful not to inquire too deeply into the manner in which these documents were procured.

The thirty odd pages of the report were mostly translations of some of the local African legends regarding the area known as "the Dead Garden" where rituals of human sacrifice and the darkest magicks were preformed. It was in this place that the first of the Slayers had been created and the black stain left by the ritual had supposedly blighted the place, allowing no living thing to flourish there. For over a millennia, the place had been nothing but a vague rumor but now it seemed that his dear old friend Ripper had decided to dig up the myths and attempt to find it. The extension of the Slayer legacy had created tsunami sized ripples amongst the demon community, some claiming that it was the end of days for demon kind on earth and others taking it as a sign that the final apocalypse was at the nigh, where the forces of good and evil would have their final battle to determine the fate of the globe. Ethan's new friends were of a more pragmatic view, as he had learned during his first meeting with them several months previous.

Ethan had been sitting on the cot in his stark 8x8 cell in the middle of nowhere the previous September. The walls and his own thoughts were the only company he has had in years. After nearly four years of staring idly at nothing, his already active imagination has begun to play tricks on him. Ethan hears the clomping boots of the guard bringing him his lunch. With not much else to do, he's able to associate certain sounds with their owners. Clomping Boots, for example, is his favorite among the staff in the detention center. The guard is a standard military drone; however, his sarcastic demeanor makes for 2 minutes of semi-interesting conversation when he comes to bring Ethan's mid-day meal.

"Rayne, cell number 2257," Ruiz says into an intercom next to Ethan's cell.

_"Voice recognition accepted, Agent Ruiz, Marco L."_ The intercoms replies.

The heavy metal door slides open first, then the electric steel gate behind it. Ruiz steps into cell. Ethan picks imaginary lint off his shirt and looks up at Ruiz with a half smirk. "Good Afternoon, Agent Ruiz. What's on the menu today?"

Ruiz sets down Ethan's tray next to him with an embellished gesture, "Well, the chef has prepared a savory meal of a processed turkey-like substance, served with a stale roll and mushy peas. And for dessert, bread pudding I wouldn't touch with a six foot pole."

"Just like mother used to make," Ethan sighs, eyeing the food. He looks at Ruiz with mock hope. "Perhaps some dinner music? Maybe something from your extensive collection of awful 80's hair metal?"

"Sure Rayne," the guard gives him a nasty smile. "Maybe something appropriate to the ambience. How about '_I'll Never Know the Touch of a Woman Again, Ever'_ followed by the lilting country strains of '_I Shit in a Pot and Sleep 3 Feet From It'_?" Ruiz nods at the tray. "Anything else?"

"How's the weather?" Ethan asks, ignoring the jibe.

Ruiz chuckles as he steps outside the cell, "Another gorgeous day at Club Fed Rayne. Eighty degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. Maybe in thirty years or so if you behave, we can arrange to get you a picture of it." Ruiz presses a few buttons and the heavy steel and polycarbonate door and barred gate slide shut. Ethan morosely picks up his spoon and proceeds to sift through the turkey mush and peas. Suddenly, Ethan jumps up as he hears a crash and suddenly all of the lights go out. After a moment he hears the unmistakable clash of steel followed by Ruiz gasping then screaming. The screams end abruptly and the sound changes to a wet sounding sigh. The sound of heavy feet proceed down the corridor and the door and gate to Ethan's cell are literally torn from the concrete with a cacophonous crash slides back open as two Fyarl demons and four hooded figures with strange metallic masks step into the room. Ethan cowers in the corner of his cell. He dares to look up and all color drains from his face.

"It can't be..." Ethan trails off. A seventh figure has entered the room and he's gazing at it with open mouthed shock.

"Hello Ethan," Deidre Page says lightly. Ethan blinks, not quite believing what he's seeing. But it's her, right down to her shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and 70's style knee-high platform boots. "It's me, Rayne," she says as if reading his mind. "Or at least, as me as I can be."

Ethan frowns, bewildered, "But... we killed you..."

"Yes, but you see, the End of Days is approaching, and it concerns me that a man of your skills is rotting in a cell, wasting away his talent," she tells him.

"The End of Days?"

"That's right. You've felt it … me … coming."

"The First," Ethan murmurs.

"Not quite," Deidre grins. "Now, Ethan, darling, I'd like your help in assisting a friend of mine with a little task I've assigned with regards to the Watcher's Council. It's time those sniveling, pompous wankers get theirs, wouldn't you say?"

"Been sayin' that for years," Ethan smiles slowly.

"Wonderful!" Deidre claps her hands together and spins around. She walks around the cell, "After you help with destroying the Council and the Slayers, you're free to wreak all the havoc you want."

"Havoc of what sort?" Ethan asks.

Deidre's faces breaks into a malevolent grin, "The kind we used to talk about dear Ethan." Deidre leans in close and Ethan can feel the warm tickle of her breath on his skin. "Back when we decided that Chaos was the only order worth supporting. The Slayer has created quite an opportunity. Something wonderful."

"What's that?" Ethan asks, feeling butterflies in his stomach despite the terror of seeing his dead friend standing in the cell with him and knowing this can only be leading to a path of the very darkest sort.

"She's built us an army. And she thinks that she's won by doing it." Deidre nods to the hooded figures in the masks and one of them takes out two vials from inside its long cloak and after opening them, pours a brackish smoking liquid along the cement floor in a pattern of two circles with interconnecting lines. Ethan watches as the smoke clears and there, clearly etched and still smoldering in the cement is a symbol he hasn't seen in years. "The Left Hand Path," he murmurs in abject awe and Deidre smirks and nods.

"It's good to have friends in low places Ethan dear. Now time is wasting," she beckons to the Fyarls and they take Ethan by the arms and whisk him down the corridor. Dead marines lay here and there and Ethan takes a second to relish the site of Ruiz laying face up on the cold cement, quite dead with his throat torn out messily and his blank eyes fixed with an expression of the deepest horror. As they exit through several other smashed gates, Ethan is temporarily blinded by the harsh sunlight of the Nevada desert. Two unmarked helicopters are idling on the grounds ahead of them and the area is strewn with dead and dying soldiers. A dozen or so more of the hooded and masked figures are waiting silently next to the choppers and Ethan is hustled toward them by his demon escorts. He turns briefly to look for Deidre but she has vanished. They pile into the chopper and the rotor blades immediately pick up speed throwing grit and sand into the air as they leap from the ground and immediately turn north, accelerating rapidly. In the jump seat in front of his is a nattily dressed man of about fifty who extends a hand smiling.

"Mr. Rayne. My name is Carson Davies and I would like to welcome you to our little circle."

"Welcome?" Ethan is unsure of what to say and decides to play it cool. "And what makes you think I've accepted your invitation Mr. Davies?"

Davies smiles coldly and gestures south toward the rapidly disappearing prison camp, "Well, we could always return you to your previous hosts if you find yourself having doubts as to whether you'd like to be involved in our little venture."

Ethan settles back in his seat, his bluff called, and merely gives the other man a rueful smile. "That won't be necessary." The other man nods and Ethan turns to look out the window, contemplating the bright sunshine as the helicopter races across the desert. "'_Eighty degrees and sunny'_, indeed Corporal. A shame you won't get to see it again," Ethan mutters with amusement, suddenly in excellent spirits. However his rescuers were they certainly weren't amateurs.

Ethan shakes off the memory and gets back to the folder in front of him. According to the legends, after the shaman had created the Slayer, most of them had died within just a few years. Supposedly the magicks they had worked had brought forth the vilest of curses on them and had marked the place as a powerful receptacle of death and misery. Rumors had later come of a powerful sect of the Thugee had migrated from India and had used the spot as the resting place for their goddess Kali. Ethan snorted. In his experience, there was no such thing as Gods. There was only power, and those with enough of it would appear to be godlike in the face the uninitiated. Man's ability to wield tools and fire had made them God's among the beasts of the earth. Ethan's suspicions were that many of the gods of ancient mythology and religions were merely holdovers from the time of the Old Ones, the ancient race of demons that had ruled the earth before man. Most had vanished millions of years ago, either killed off by their own kind in the struggle for dominance, or had left for other dimensions, either banished or merely weary of this one and looking for a change. Ethan and a few others had strongly suspected that some of them however, especially the lesser of their ilk, had stayed on, filling the vacuum of power that had been left by their predecessors and making themselves out to be deities amongst the first men. Could Kali be such a demon? Ethan flipped through the pages idly, his sharp mind pondering once again all of the questions that he had privately had about the Left Hand Path and its beliefs since he had joined their ranks the previous fall.

Despite their worship of an ancient and possible false god, the Left Hand Path were no shunners of technology. It seemed that they had excellent contacts in the military establishment and had used a hybrid form of cybernetics and mystical elements to create a form of super-soldier. What amazed and sickened Ethan most about this was that they had no lack of volunteers from their following that allowed themselves to be bastardized with the new system. Well you couldn't really argue with success, could you? The new cyborg soldiers were definitely of the ass-whipping set and Ethan had personally seen them take down a nest of vampires during their training and evaluation before the Los Angeles mission, in about the same amount of time it would take a grown man to subdue a testy Pomeranian. They had learned much from their failure at the Wolfram and Hart office and had begun picking off Slayers which had been the "Plan B" so to speak. Kali was a goddess of the dead and vampires were a definite favorite of hers according to his hosts. And Vampire Slayers made the most formidable vampires as he had been soon to find out.

The first one they'd brought in was a young black woman named Natasha. She'd fought like a fury, despite the sedatives they'd administered to her to calm her down and finally they'd had to hit her with an elephant tranquilizer to get her manageable enough to work with. After allowing a vampire to feed from her, it had slashed its wrist and fed her its own blood to turn her. The result was awe inspiring. The resultant vampire was like nothing Rayne had seen before, much stronger and faster than a normal vampire, but the pure evil of it has been the truly terrifying part. Ethan had known evil in his day, but the sheer animosity and malice the creature had shown was of a scale he'd never witnessed. They kept Natasha caged as they ran their tests and it seemed they all were happy with the result except for her demeanor. This is why they had wanted Angel. Apparently, with the presence of a soul in its sire, it made the vampire much more manageable and rational which was infinitely desirable in a creature as powerful and malevolent as the one Ethan had witnessed. Then Natasha had escaped.

A battered cage, three destroyed cyborgs and two other corpses in an alley a few blocks away were all that had remained the next day when her absence was discovered. He'd later learned that three Vampire Slayers had been dispatched by the Council after Natasha had gutted an after-hours club on Bloor St. and had tracked and killed the beast in a titanic battle that had cost one Slayer her life and one of the others an eye. No one knew if the Council had cottoned on to what exactly Natasha was, as the Left Hand Path had been careful to choose a Slayer with no Watcher, but Ethan knew Giles and he had a strong suspicion that Ripper would have sussed out what she was. Would Ripper suspect it was done purposely or would he write it off to a random event? Certainly, with all the new Slayers roaming around, this was bound to happen sooner or later? Yes, but again, Ethan knew Giles and he doubted whether good old Ripper would buy into a coincidence like this so soon after the expansion of the Slayer legacy. No, Ethan was pretty sure that Ripper was digging with all of the Council's considerable resources to find out who wanted to make Slayers into vampires.

"All in good time Ripper," Ethan says quietly to himself. He closes the folder and leans back in his swivel chair smiling before taking a sip at his tea. "All in good time."

**8**

**London – May 8th 2004 – Head Quarters of the Council of Watchers**

Xander had been back in London for just over 36 hours and was still adjusting to the difference in climate. After 8 months of living in tropical Africa with 100+ degrees Fahrenheit heat, the damp chill of the English spring was both a blessing and a curse. Andrew waiting at the airport for him hadn't helped.

"Xander!" the shout had made the ex-carpenter cringe as he had come through customs at Heathrow Airport and his worst fears were realized as the he spotted the young Watcher waving frantically at him through the crowd. Andrew's hair was considerably longer than it had been when it left, but the manic grin and excitement was still the same. Xander had sighed and shouldered his bag before returning the wave. What he hadn't anticipated was the concussive impact of Andrew hurling himself against him and hugging him fiercely. "Like mighty Ar-Pharazôn you have returned from your quest to the South, tanned and triumphant to the fold of your friends and comrades." Andrew's eyes are shimmering with tears as he steps back, still holding Xander's arms and looking at him with affection.

"Jesus Andrew," Xander had muttered half in disgust and half in amusement, and stepped back from the Watcher. "You know, hello was probably enough." He had glanced around hopefully but didn't see anyone else he recognized. "None of the others are here yet?"

Andrew shook his head dramatically. "Not yet. Mr. Giles asked them to be here by tomorrow and he wanted the chance to debrief you privately before the rest got here." Andrew jerked his head toward two teenage girls who were standing together several yards behind him. "Karen and Jenna are here as security. He wants us at Council Head Quarters ASAP." Andrew looked back at the two girls and gave a brief nod and to Xander's surprise both girls had nodded back respectfully and taken up flanking positions on either side of the two men as they started walking toward the exit. Whatever else Andrew may be, he certainly had developed a place of authority in the Council to have two Slayers respond like that to a mere nod. Andrew kept up his excited chatter all the way to the exit, asking questions about his flight, Xander's lion-tooth necklace that Oujay's wife had made for him and descriptions of all of the places and animals he'd seen, without bothering to wait for Xander to respond before firing off the next question. Xander did notice however that despite his "friend's" excited banter, that Andrew's eyes continuously swept back and forth as they walked and that he kept his coat open and his right hand free at his side. Andrew, it would seem, was a tad more formidable than his persona would lead the casual observer to believe.

When they reached the exit, a large custom van had been waiting for them. The two Slayers had swung out from their positions on either side of the two men; Karen moving to open the van's sliding door for them while Jenna stood a few yards to the side, her gaze sweeping over the area protectively. Xander slung his bag in the van and got into the back with Andrew following and Karen slid the door shit behind them before collecting her partner and sliding into a non-descript sedan to the rear. The van started off immediately with the sedan following as chase car and Xander had sank back into his seat and closed his eye, relishing the fact that he was minutes away from hundreds of restaurants, cold beer and a soft bed. The trip to the new Council building was short, less than fifteen minutes, and Xander took the opportunity to get updates from Andrew on what everyone was up too. Dawn and Buffy were in Rome, Willow and Kennedy were still in Brazil, Faith and Robin were in Cleveland, but the most surprising news had been that Spike was still around.

"Didn't he go the way of the Roman Candle in Sunnydale?" the shocked ex-carpenter had asked.

"Yep,' Andrew had replied nodding vigorously. "But somehow that amulet that Angel gave Buffy saved his essence in some way and it showed up in LA a little over two weeks after Sunnydale was destroyed. Someone decided that Spike was valuable and brought him back."

"Great," Xander grumbled. He'd never liked the blonde vampire and despite his sacrifice that had stopped the First's army, he still didn't harbor Spike any good-will. "Buffy know?"

"Yeah," Andrew had smiled and proceeded to tell a highly amusing story about Angel and Spike showing up in Rome the previous week looking for her.

"So they never actually talked to her?" Xander had asked.

"Nope," Andrew shook his head and then made a gesture out the window. "We're home."

The new Council building was an impressive structure. The building itself was six stories high and made of grey stone with lots of high terraces on the upper floors and had been built in the mid 1700's. The antiquity of the edifice however belied the high-tech interior that had been installed at Willow's insistence and every inch of the grounds and interior were monitored with a combination of state-of-the-art surveillance equipment and mystical protection. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened to the previous Council building. Willow herself had overseen the protective spells and mystical barriers that guarded the premises and had even arranged for the powerful Witches Coven in Devon that had taken her in after her breakdown in Sunnydale to attempt to break it. They had not succeeded.

The van pulled through a low stone archway and stopped at a gate guarded by two armed security officers. Andrew handed over a pass card through the window and then pressed his thumb on an electronic fingerprint recognition device. The guard checked the screen and nodded. A green light then lit up over the gate as it swung open. The van traveled down a narrow lane and the security process was repeated at another gate before the van was allowed to descend into the underground parking lot below the building. The two got out of the van and Andrew thanked the driver and instructed him to take Xander's bag to the guest wing before making off toward a bank of elevators on the east wall. Xander had followed him with a mixture of awe and amusement as they reached the elevators. Again Andrew swiped his card and placed his thumb on a small LCD pad next to the elevator doors. A green light again went off above the elevators and the doors slid silently open to reveal a plush interior. They entered and Andrew simply said "Sixth floor" before the doors slid shut and the elevator started its ascent.

"This technology stuff must drive Giles absolutely bat-shit," Xander said grinning as the doors slid open at the sixth floor.

"He threatened to have it all taken out the first week actually," Andrew replied matter of factly. "He stayed late one night and forgot his pass card in his office and then couldn't get back in to get it, so he was trapped for over an hour in the hallway before security found him trying to kick in the door to his office." Andrew just shook his head. "The really funny part is that all he had to do was press the panic button next to the elevator and security would have been there in less than sixty seconds." He paused. "Mr. Giles can really wreck a door. It was pretty impressive."

Xander laughed and Andrew led him down a lavishly carpeted and decorated hall before knocking at a set of heavy oak doors at the far end. A buzzer went off and the door clicked open and Xander found himself in a large anteroom where an authoritative woman in her late 50's or early 60's was regarding them stonily. There was another set of doors behind her and Xander assumed that they must lead into Giles' office. "Mr. Wells," she said gravely and then shifted her gaze to Xander. "And you are Mr. Harris I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," Xander suddenly felt very awkward and nervous under the woman's sharp gaze. He attempted a smile and took a step forward, outstretching his hand and opening his mouth to ask her name when his toe had caught on the edge of the large Persian rug in front of her desk and he'd went down hard, shaking the floor with the impact.

He swore loudly and scrambled to his feet and saw that the woman's expression had changed in the slightest. "Are you drunk?" she'd asked quite simply.

"What?" Xander asked in shock and then felt his face turning a bright shade of scarlet. "No, just … It's a one-eye thing … bad depth perception …" His stammering didn't seem to have any effect on the woman in front of him and he was starting to wonder if there might be a convenient hole for him to drop into when the doors behind the woman opened and Giles stood looking at them, his expression changing from annoyance at the racket that had disturbed him to pleasure when he spotted Xander.

"Xander," the Head Watcher's voice was warm and welcoming. He strode forward and grasped the younger man's hand with genuine pleasure. "Good to see you. Your flight went well?"

Xander grinned and nodded, genuinely touched that the older man was so obviously happy to see him. "Good to be back Giles."

"Splendid," the Watcher turned to his secretary. "Meghan, Mr. Harris is an old friend and a senior Council member. Please make sure that arrangements for his accommodations are taken care of and that he's given every consideration while he is here. As a matter of fact, can you call down to the steno pool and have an assistant assigned to him immediately?" Xander noticed with no small satisfaction that the older woman's demeanor instantly changed at the announcement of his status with the council and that she now smiled at him for the very first time.

"Certainly Mr. Giles. Will there be anything else?"

"No Meghan, but please make sure that we aren't disturbed." The secretary nodded and Giles immediately ushered the other two men into his office and toward a set of sofas with a low mahogany table between them in front of a crackling fire in the hearth of the far wall. Xander and Andrew both took a seat and Giles had poured them all drinks from his private bar before taking a seat across from them.

"Where'd you find her?" Xander grinned at Giles who had taken a large gulp of his whiskey and let out an explosive sigh afterward.

The Head Watcher smiled at him. "Meghan? We had her built out of left-over pieces of Margaret Thatcher, Martha Stewart and Atilla the Hun." Giles notices Andrew smiling and glares at him. "And for God's sake Andrew, don't repeat that to anyone. I don't want my afternoon tea to have any arsenic in it." Xander laughed and Giles smiled back before getting down to business. "So you found it then?"

"We think so," Xander then launched into an account of what had happened when Oujay and he had discovered the barren plain with the low rocky hills and the statues and of the warning they had received from whatever had possessed the guide. Giles listened in mostly silence, asking an occasional question but mostly growing more stoic as the story progressed. Xander hadn't given him too much information on the satellite radio for fear of the transmission being intercepted and this was the first time the Head Watcher had received a full account of the incident. When Xander had finished, Giles swirled the ice cubes in his glass thoughtfully and then looked up at the younger man.

"Well it certainly sounds like you found it. Now, you say that the voice's message was 'We do not suffer the living to come here,' correct?"

"That's it," Xander agreed, taking a slug of his own drink. "Not exactly a welcome mat."

"Indeed," Giles replied in a low voice, his expression thoughtful. After a moment he'd shifted his gaze to Andrew. "How is that report from Nevada coming?"

"I should have it finished in a few days," the younger Watcher replied immediately. "Just tracking down some specifics."

"Right," Giles replied. He stood and again offered his hand to Xander. "The others will be arriving Friday. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable and get some rest." Xander had done exactly that, sleeping for nearly 12 hours that night in his first proper bed in months and then waited with growing anticipation for his friends to arrive.

Now it was his turn to wait at the airport, the damp chill of the day causing him to shiver slightly despite the warm overcoat he was wearing. He suddenly spots a shock of red hair coming through the jet-way and into the airport that drives away all thoughts of being cold away instantly. "Will!"

The witch jerked her head toward the sound and exclaimed his name in a barely contained shriek of joy. She instantly dropped her bag for Kennedy to carry and raced toward him, enveloping him with a ferocious hug. "I missed you sooo much!"

The smell and touch of his best friend against him was the best thing Xander had felt in almost a year. A tidal wave of memory and affection batters into him and Xander feels tears tracing wetness down his own cheek. After hugging her back, he disengages her gently and sees the wetness on Willow's cheeks as well coupled with a huge grin. He returned it and uses his thumb to gently brush a few stray tears from her cheeks. "Hey you," he says gently. Kennedy arrives then, puffing slightly as she drags all of the luggage forward and then drops it in a heap beside them. Xander gives her a hug as well and then helps pick up the rest of the bags.

Giles had arranged for them to have a private lounge at the airport for the afternoon as Buffy and Faith were both due to arrive within the next hour as well. They stowed the bags in the lounge and left them under the watchful eyes of Karen and Jenna before heading off to another gate to greet Robin and Faith. Willow and Xander talked incessantly the whole time, catching up on events and swapping stories. Kennedy watches them with a bemused smile, occasionally shaking her head at the childish glee the two are obviously taking from each other's company and finally interrupts them when the loudspeaker announces that Flight 834 from Cleveland is deplaning. After a moment a familiar figure in tight leather pants and denim jacket emerges from the doors, followed by Robin who is looking quite chic in a pair of expensive black slacks and a tan v-neck sweater. He spots them first and nudges Faith who looks over and shoots them a wicked grin. In seconds more hugs are exchanged and Xander and Robin shake hands warmly.

"B make it yet?" Faith asks after greetings are exchanged.

Xander checks his watch and shakes his head. "She and Dawn aren't due for another half hour or so. Apparently they're bringing Buffy's new boyfriend." The last sentence is said with a hint of disapproval.

"B's got a new squeeze huh?" Faith purses her lips and leers suggestively. "This one have a pulse?"

Willow laughs and nudges the Slayer. "Play nice Faith. I don't know much about him but apparently Buffy really likes this guy and even Dawn thinks he's really great."

"Me, not play nice?" Faith asks in feigned shock, batting her eyes innocently. Robin just shakes his head and grins. "There a bar in this joint?" Faith asks, changing the subject. The group moves off to their private lounge to have a drink and catch up.

"How's Brazil?" Faith asked Willow after their drink orders had arrived and their server had retreated.

The witch gave Kennedy a furtive smile and took a sip of her Singapore sling. "Good! Great even. Kenn's parents set us up in a hacienda they own in Rio and we've sort of turned it into our base of operations. Giles initially wanted us in Sao Paulo but," she shoots another look at her Slayer girlfriend and suppresses a giggle. "Well, Rio is just as good."

"Better clubs I bet," Faith says with a wink and gives Kennedy a quick nod. "How 'bout you brat? Liking the life down there?"

"You bet your ass," Kennedy grins back. She and Faith had become fairly close after the destruction of Sunnydale but hadn't kept in touch much since she and Willow had left for South America just before Christmas. Faith refused to use e-mail so they had only chatted a few times. "Looks like Cleveland agrees with you two." She gestures to Robin and Faith who are sitting very close together. "Do I hear wedding bells and the pitter patter of tiny hooker-booted feet in your future?"

Robin had been taking a sip of his beer and almost swallows the bottle at this comment and Willow's eyes go wide and she smacks Kennedy on the leg underneath the table.

Xander snorts and then bursts out laughing. "Right," he says after recovering from his laughing fit. "We'll just get her an SUV and she can start wearing earth shoes and in a year they'll be the toast of the Ohio PTA and bake sale circuit." He snorts again. "I think I'd probably buy tickets to see that."

Faith grabs Xander in mock outrage and proceeds to give him noggin rubs with her knuckles until he's alternately laughing and begging for her to stop. Robin checks his watch and sets down his beer before gently disengaging his girlfriend from torturing the ex-carpenter. "I hate to break up this meeting of the minds folks, but Buffy's flight should be touching down right about now."

They all finish their drinks and drop some money on the table before leaving the lounge and heading toward Buffy and Dawn's gate. After about 15 minutes of waiting, they spot Dawn pulling a wheeled suitcase with Buffy and a handsome black man following. Willow rushes forward and tackles the younger Summers girl in a hug and in seconds it's a free-for-all as Xander and Buffy both rush forward to collide in a massive group hug. Faith and Robin watch with some amusement, but Faith's eyes are continually drawn back to the man that had accompanied them. His resemblance to Robin was fairly striking. Both black men had shaved heads and earrings with large muscular frames. Robin was probably slightly taller than the other man and had a goatee, but other than that, they could easily be mistaken for brothers. Buffy is dragging him toward the others and making introductions and Faith turns to Robin with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

"B's squeeze looks a bit more than sorta like someone I know. Anything I need to know about you two?"

"What?" Robin is taken aback and then looks back over to the group who are now moving toward them. "Me and Buffy? Of course not," he says perhaps a bit too defensively. Faith's dark eyes are heavy on him and he finds himself stammering on despite himself. "Well we went out the one time. I mean it was just business. She didn't know that I knew who she was and of course I knew that she didn't know, well maybe she knew something, but I knew she didn't know all of it and …" Robin pauses looking at his girlfriend who is barely holding in her laughter. Suddenly it dawns on him. "You bitch," he pokes her hard in the shoulder, smiling ruefully. Faith explodes into peals of laughter. "You already knew all this didn't you?"

"You fed me pears," Buffy says solemnly, punching Robin in the arm as the group arrives next to them. "I believe I made a comment about 'never having anything that good in my mouth.'" She gives the Watcher a hug and then grins at Faith.

"You set me up," Robin says, in what is more a statement then it is a question.

"Fuckin' A," Faith says recovered now but still grinning broadly. She and Buffy look at each other sort of awkwardly, not sure how to greet each other. Dawn solves this by leaping in and hugging Faith and then Robin.

Buffy looks around questioningly and then turns to Xander. "Where's Giles?"

"At the Council building," Xander tells her. "He and Andrew wanted to make sure everything was ready for the meeting later."

"No complaints here," Faith says with a shrug. "We'll be down to business soon enough. No need to start too early. Besides, I have a more important question," She turns to Buffy and then gives The Immortal an appreciative once over with her eyes. "Who's the new stallion B?"

Buffy gives Faith a death-stare but The Immortal just chuckles and holds out a hand. "You must be Faith." Even Willow and Kennedy feel a small tickle in their stomachs at the sound of his low melodious voice. "Buffy has spoken of your," he smiles, "candor. A pleasure to meet you." Faith's normally insolent grin in the presence of attractive men falters slightly and Buffy allows herself a moment of inward glee at the other Slayer's obvious discomfort. The Immortal turns to Robin next, "And you must be Robin Wood. Dawn speaks very highly of you. You were her principal in Sunnydale correct?"

"Yep, that's me." Robin shakes the other man's hand and returns the smile. "I'm sorry but you have me at a disadvantage. Your name is …"

"Tim," The Immortal replies warmly after a warning glance from Buffy. "That's not my full name of course, but it's much easier to say." The Slayer had been quite clear that he should volunteer no information about his true identity as it may cause some waves. The Immortal's role in the supernatural world was highly ambiguous. He had staked a clear position of neutrality between demons and humans that may upset some of the Watchers Council if they knew who he was. Andrew and Giles of course knew, but both had promised to keep his identity under wraps during the visit for the sake of getting what information they could about the Al Hatari Bustani.

"Well should we get this wagon of fun rolling?" Willow asks, checking her watch. "Giles said we should all be at the Council building for three and that way we can finish our meeting before dinner."

"Sounds good to me," Faith nods and gives Buffy a questioning look. "Ready to roll B?"

"Lead the way," Buffy replied grinning. It was comforting really the way they all slipped back together so seamlessly after nearly a year apart. Sure, she'd seen most of them once or twice and talked on the phone, but having everyone together was something they hadn't done since San Francisco when Xander had left in August last year. The only issue was what it was that had brought them together again. On their way to retrieve everyone else's luggage from the private lounge, she took the opportunity to study her friends and Xander in particular. Willow and Kennedy were in excellent spirits, chatting away with Dawn and The Immortal about Rome while Robin and Faith trailed behind them slightly, Faith still ribbing him about his faux date with Buffy. Xander however looked strained. He was grinning and joking with the rest, but something about his eyes and his posture left Buffy feeling nervous. The past year almost felt like an intermission and she shivered briefly though her long wool coat was keeping her quite warm. _It was the eye_, she thought to herself. _Not Xander's eye, but the whole past year. It was like the eye of a hurricane we thought we had left behind in Sunnydale_. But now it was back, and the calm was about to swirl back into a storm now that they'd all caught their breath. Whatever had happened in Africa, Buffy's instincts were telling her that it was about to change everything.

TBC …


	6. Chapters 9, 10 and 11

**Part 2**

_**The Quickening**_

**9**

**London - May 20th - Heathrow International Airport**

It was raining as they touched down in London. The Lear jet taxies down a small runway to the hangars for private aircraft. Angel had been very nervous that Wolfram and Hart would have a "greeting party" waiting for them but Willow had just smiled and shaken her head when he'd voiced the concern.

"Not an issue," was all she had said on the subject and as they approached the small private hangar, he began to understand why. A large non-descript van is waiting for them and a dozen or so teenage girls are spread out on the tarmac, scanning the area continuously. The jet slows to a halt and everyone stretches and moves to the door, anxious to get to wherever they are going. Lack of sleep is beginning to take its toll on the Los Angeles group and the anticlimax of the plane ride after their deeds of the previous day have left them in a sort of punch drunk stupor. The plane's steward opens the door for them after the pilot had shut down the engines and the group deplanes in near silence, Spike and Angel using umbrellas, ostensively to protect them from the rain, but in reality to keep them from smoldering, despite the overcast conditions. They follow Willow who heads directly for the van. As they approach, the side door slides open revealing the person waiting for them.

"Oh bugger," Spike mutters as a young man's form hurtles from the van.

"Spike!" Andrew impacts into the blonde vampire with a ferocious hug. The young Watcher's face is alight with happiness. "I knew we'd work together again! And here we are, mano e vampyro, ready to face the darkness -"

Faith strode straight past them, gathering Andrew by the collar on the way and shoving him back toward the van. "Reunions can wait spazoid. We have bigger fish to fry." The Slayer takes the point seat next to the driver, leaving the others to get into the rear. Connor is looking around with a bit of nervous anxiety and Willow smiles and pats him on the knee.

"Relax Connor. We're safe as safe can be in here." She gestures out the open door at the dozen Slayers and then around the inside of the van as Illyria, Gunn, Angel and Spike get in after them. "Someone would have to be nuts to attack us."

"I'm not scared," the young man shakes his head and grins. "I've just never been to England before. It's kinda trippy."

"It's good to be home," Spike says pulling the sliding door of the van shut behind him.

"This place is home to you?" Illyria asks Spike gravely, her pale eyes locking on the blonde vampire. "Then why did you stay at the Wolf the Ram and the Hart?"

"Well, it was home once upon a time," Spike leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, a slight smile touching his lips. "Haven't been back for a while though, not counting me and Angel's sojourn into the Forbidden Forest on your account that is." He reopens his eyes and nods at Illyria. He then inhales deeply, taking in the scents of home. "Haven't been to London in ages though." He shifts his gaze to Angel. "Remember the time we got pickled at that pub in the Cider Cellars and found those two silly bints in Haymarket? Dru and Darla walked in on us and you were wearing nothing but a kilt and singing Garryowen at the top of your voice while the two lasses were-" he pauses, seeing the death stare that Angel has locked on him and the grin on Connor's face and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "It was funny at the time," he mutters.

"How long until we get to the Council HQ?" Gunn asks Willow, tactfully changing the subject.

"Fifteen minutes," she tells him, taking the opportunity to close her eyes and lean back in her seat. "What say you fill in our guests on the past couple of days Andrew?"

"Right," the young Watcher snaps her a salute and digs a notebook out of his coat pocket. "A few weeks ago, African adventurer extraordinaire Xander Harris found what we think may be the spot where the Slayer legacy was born; the Al Hatari Bustani or 'The Dead Garden' as it is known as in the legends."

"So what do you need with us?" Spike asks in mild annoyance. "Not that I mind the ass saving, don't get me wrong, but you lot have platoons of super beings running around at your beck and call now. What do you need a couple of vampires for … well a couple of vampires, and one of their spawn?" He adds after getting a miffed look from Connor. "And Blue and Charlie here of course," He nods to Illyria and Gunn. The van exits the freeway and starts wending its way through narrow streets lined with old stone buildings.

"That's just it mon compadre," Andrew gestures to Faith who shakes her head and grimaces. "Our Slayer hordes are great, don't get me wrong … well other than the crazy ones with penchants for bone saws, but I digress," he adds hastily at a warning look from Willow. "They lack a very specific requirement that you and Angel can provide."

"We're dead," Angel says quietly and looks up at Andrew with a tired frown. "That's it, isn't it? Since Kali seems to have taken over the premises and she's a patron of the dead, only the dead can enter."

Andrew nods emphatically and Angel shifts his gaze to Faith who returns it steadily. The van slows as it rounds a corner and the grey stone building that housed the new Council of Watchers came into view. They passed through the gates after a quick security check and Angel can feel the anger in his chest building with each meter closer they get to the edifice. "So you came to L.A. to have us run your fucking errands?" His eyes are burning with fury, the tiredness gone and his voice is rising with indignant wrath. "You took me out of the fight I've been picking for five years to be your fucking gopher?"

"What? No, Angel," Willow exclaims with a startled look at the sudden burst of anger from the vampire. "It's not like that at all! We just -" she gives Faith a helpless look and the Slayer simply shrugs, her eyes still on Angel. "We just thought …" she trails off, uncertain of what to say next.

"There's more to it," Faith says quietly. Angel shifts his eyes to her and opens his mouth to say something but the Slayer just shakes her head. "You'll know everything in a few minutes. Besides," she gives him a mischievous smile, "There's someone who'd like to say hello."

"Look, I don't normally agree with the poof here. As a matter of fact, I make it a bit of a policy not to, but he's right. You can't just waltz into L.A. and expect us to-" Spike's voice trails off as Angel elbows him hard in the ribs. The blonde vampire turns angrily to complain, but he sees Angel's gaze locked out the window as the van pulls into the underground parking and he spots the lithe blond form standing next to the elevators, her arms crossed over her chest, looking toward the van anxiously. The van stops and Faith hops out and then pulls open the sliding side door. Three sets of eyes lock on each other and Spike suddenly feels like a giant hand is squeezing his chest.

"Is that her dad?" Connor's low voice breaks the sudden silence in the van and Angel manages to tear his eyes from the figure waiting for them.

"Yeah," he replies, the words thick in his throat. "That's Buffy."

**10**

**Cleveland, Ohio - May 8th, 2004 **

Faith is hurling clothes everywhere as she hunts through the closet of her and Robin's bedroom. An open suitcase is lying on the bed with a jumble of underwear, tank tops, jeans and socks strewn across the interior of it. Faith curses under her breath, muttering obscenities as she hunts through the bottom of the closet. Robin's suitcase sits next to the open door of the room, its contents neatly folded and awaiting his return from his office as the Slayer finally pulls out a pair of thick soled black boots from beneath a pile of discarded sweaters. The sound of fingernails tapping gently on the doorframe behind her causes her to nearly leap out of her skin and she whirls to see Taryn grinning at her from the doorway. The pearly white teeth of the younger Slayer are in sharp contrast to the golden tone of her tanned skin. Her hair is long and dark though very straight, unlike Faith's natural waves, and her eyes are a deep liquid brown. She leans against the doorframe and gestures at the pile of clothes that are now almost obscuring the suitcase. "I thought you were just going for the weekend? What the fuck are you packing all that stuff for? You expecting to crash in the Appalachians or something?"

"I don't know," Faith shrugs futilely and slumps down on the bed and gestures angrily at the scattered clothing around the room. "I don't know what I want to bring and what's the weather like in England at this time of year and -" she glances up at the younger Slayer. "It's just that," she pauses, trying to figure out what to say, to describe the mixed senses of panic and excitement that are running through her at the thought of being at the Council Headquarters. "I'm sort of the black sheep of this little outfit if you didn't know," Faith finally says quietly, picking absently at the bedspread. "I had a rough patch a few years back and then last year when I had to lead the girls there was … there was a trap. I sprung it." She spreads her arms wide. "Kaboom. I guess I just don't want to give anyone a reason to pick at me."

"Looks like it all worked out for the best though," Taryn says soothingly, keeping her tone low and even. "You guys made it right? You beat the bad guy and from what I hear, you're one of the main reasons that happened." The younger Slayer takes a step forward into the room. "Skip, you're not just my teacher. You're my best friend. Remember the first thing you told me when you found me in Boston?"

"Shut up you dumb bitch and pay attention?"

Taryn sighs, "After that."

Faith ponders this for a moment before replying. "I told you that being a Slayer was more than just about being able to punch hard or run fast," she looks up at the younger girl, a rueful half-smile touching her lips. "I told you that it was about making choices, and that not every choice you make will be the right one. It's about learning from your choices and dealing with the fallout." The smile turns into a slight grimace. "Boy, I wasn't fucking kidding was I?"

"That's right," the younger girl replies, the grin returning. She absently brushes her bangs from her eyes. "So was all that just bullshit or is it true?"

Faith purses her lips and gives Taryn a sour smile. "When did you turn into the pep-squad?"

"I just call 'em as I see 'em Skip," Taryn walks further into the room and plops down on the bed next to Faith. "You're a good boss. Even that Buffy chick said so. Act like it."

Faith smiles widely now and gives Taryn a shrewd look. "You didn't like her that much did you?"

Taryn shrugs. "Little Miss tight ass? I guess she's okay. It just bothered me to see you so wound up about it when she was here. We do good work and you and Robin have been kick-ass teachers. I didn't like that you felt like you had to impress her is all I guess."

"Well you impressed her," Faith tells the younger girl, still grinning as Taryn's head turns quickly and the younger girl gives her a wide-eyed stare. "She told me so before she left. And you've impressed Robin and me too. That's why you're in charge of the group while we're gone."

"I'm whatzit?" Taryn's face turns white with shock. "But … but Angela's the oldest and Skip, God, I don't have a fuckin' clue how to-"

Faith cuts her off. "Who gives a fuck who's the oldest. Robin and I talked it over and we agreed that you're the one that's worked the hardest and made the most progress. It's time for you to take off the training wheels sunshine. And don't give me that look." Faith swats the girl on the leg, seeing the sour expression on her face. "You worked your ass off Taryn and you're the best Slayer we have here. Someone has to watch the Hellmouth while I'm out of town and if you get in a jam just call my cell. Robin and I can be back in a few hours if we have to."

Taryn's normally tanned skin is still a bit pasty but her lips are curving into a smile as she more fully absorbs what Faith has just told her. "Angela will be _pissed_," she says after a moment but her dark eyes are dancing now with excitement.

"Then let her be," Faith stands up and looks down at the other girl. "And get the fuck off my silk halter. I don't want your ass dust on it." Taryn jumps up and Faith retrieves the shirt, shaking out the wrinkles. Her attempts to ward off the creases are ruined however as the younger girl tackles her in a hug. "Jesus Taryn, you going dyke on me?"

"If she is, I get to video tape it," Robin tells them from the doorway. He's grinning and Taryn hastily disengages herself from the older Slayer. Robin walks in and gives Faith a quick kiss. "I take it you told her?"

"Yep," Faith nods and drops the now hopelessly wrinkled shirt on the floor. Robin sighs and retrieves it, then goes to the closet to hang it up. He stops and gapes open-mouthed at the disaster area inside. "Did you get the plane tickets?" Faith hastens to ask before he can start complaining about the closet's appearance.

"Yeah," the Watcher sighs as he takes one of the hangers still left on the closet's rail and hangs up the halter. "Not cheap either. The Council had better be reimbursing us or we're eating Kraft Dinner and Orville Redenbacher for the next few months."

"And that's a bad thing how?" Faith replies chuckling. She turns to the other Slayer. "You ready kiddo?"

"Fuckin' A," Taryn says, the huge smile on her face now threatening to reach her ears.

Faith stows the sloppy contents of her suitcase a bit more neatly and flips it closed and fastens the catches. She picks it up and Robin grabs his as they head to the door. They head for the hallway and usher Taryn out before checking to make sure the lights are out. The deadbolt clicks into place and the apartment is silent. On the nightstand, next to the bed, Faith's cell phone lies forgotten beneath a discarded t-shirt.

**11**

**London, England – May 8th 2004**

The group is quiet as the elevator moves silently to the sixth floor. Willow and Kennedy are holding hands and Robin and the Immortal are eyeing each other with a touch of discomfort. Buffy and Faith are quietly watching the numbers above the sliding doors and Dawn is resting against Xander's shoulder, her eyes closed and a tiny smile touching her lips as the carpenter leans against the mirrored elevator wall. The doors open and they move out into the plush hallway toward the large double doors to the anteroom of Giles' office. Willow pushes them open and Meghan rises quickly to greet them.

"Hello Miss Rosenburg, Miss Summers," she nods to the group deferentially. "Mr. Giles and Mr. Wells are waiting inside for you."

"Thanks Meghan," Willow says with a quick smile and taps lightly on the oak door at the back of the room.

"Enter," a voice tells them and Willow grasps the brass handle and pushes the door open. The inside of the office is impressive for those seeing it for the first time. Long rows of rich mahogany shelves play host to Giles' extensive personal library and a small credenza at the back serves as a bar with a few decanters of mellow amber liquid residing on top surrounded by heavy bottomed glasses and an ice bucket. Giles' desk sits at the far end beneath a massive bay window with heavy velvet curtains. A long oak table has been set up in the middle of the office with a dozen high-backed chairs surrounding it. There is a manilla folder placed before each of the seats and Andrew and Giles rise to their feet from the low sofa by the fireplace near Giles' desk. "Welcome," Giles tells them smiling warmly. Dawn, Willow and Buffy each take their turns embracing the Head Watcher and Xander, Faith and Robin all shake his hand warmly. Only the Immortal keeps his distance, bestowing a friendly nod to both Watchers. Giles eyes him tersely and then turns to the rest of the group. "We'll catch up properly later. But first, business I think."

"Still a party animal I see Giles," Faith smirks at the Head Watcher and goes to the table and plops down at a seat. She lounges in the chair artlessly but Robin, who knows her body language very well by now, notes the tenseness in her arms and the way her hands keep fidgeting, belying the Slayer's cool exterior. "I suppose it's better to get this out of the way first huh?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Buffy too takes a seat and the rest follow. After a moment they are all arranged at the table with Willow on one end and Giles on the other. Xander and Andrew take seats on either side of the Head Watcher and Faith finds herself seated between Kennedy and Robin, facing directly across from Buffy who is flanked by the Immortal and Dawn.

"Thank you for all coming on such short notice," Giles begins by way of introduction. "It's been some time since we were all together and I'm sad to say that the circumstances aren't happy ones. Andrew?" The Head Watcher turns to the younger man who gestures for each of them to open their folders. Inside is a briefing paper and several photographs, many of them satellite shots of a forested area with a wide river and several more are of a hideous female figure with a skeletal black body and a blue face. It's features are elongated and vicious looking, not helped by the serpents woven through its plaited hair and what looks like a girdle of human arms around its hips.

"The picture of the demon you see is of Kali," he tells the group. "She was worshipped as a God all through Asia, most notably in India, and she was one bad mamma." He indicates the picture with a pen. "We've had some recent reports of her Acolytes getting active throughout India and Africa and much of the activity has centered around the idea that she's back, at full strength, and seriously pissed off." He picks up another photo, this one a satellite shot.

"As you can see," Andrew continues, his voice nervous and off pitch, "We've supplied you with some satellite shots of the area that our colleague Xander Harris has spent the past several months reconning for us in search of the 'Dead Garden', also known as the birthplace of the Slayer legacy."

"Huh?" Buffy interrupts quite confused. "Guys, I hate to tell you this but I've been there and it looks nothing like this," she taps one of the photos with her fingernail. "First of all, where I was it was nothing but sand and rocks. This stuff," she taps it again frowning, "This is all jungle and rivers. It wasn't like that at all."

"Exactly," Andrew says nodding. "These pictures were taken the day after Xander called in his findings. We had a friend at the French Space Agency procure these for us and then back checked them with all the other aerial photos of the area we could get our hands on and they all showed the same thing. Heavy forest."

"Uh, maybe I'm the idiot," Faith interrupts, frowning at her own photos, "but if all that's there is jungle, how do we know that Xander got the co-ordinates right? No offence Xan," she nods at him and he gives her a smile that's half grimace, "but you were in the middle of nowhere. How do we know this is the place?"

"Because we had them take these pictures at night with an infra-red camera," Andrew opens another folder and hands out a couple more photos. Buffy takes a look at them and frowns and then hands them over to the Immortal. He glances at them and then looks at the young Watcher shrewdly before passing them along. When they finally reach Faith she looks and sees that most of the area comes up as a pale green with speckles of yellow, orange and red, some alone and some clustered in groups. In one area however, the image is totally black. Not a trace of any heat source showing in an area of at least 40 square kilometers. "As you can see," Andrew continues, "the complete lack of any ambient heat source in an area that large in a jungle is just crazy. The place is crawling with birds, animals and at the very least, the jungle canopy should keep in at least some residual heat just like it shows the rest of the area doing. This leaves only one conclusion and that is that the daytime photos are wrong. Somehow, someone or something is trying very hard to keep this place a secret."

"You're not kidding," Xander mutters, vividly recalling the blank stare of Oujay's eyes and the whirlwind that had driven them out of the area. "There's a whole heap of nasty brewing in that place and whoever is working it, doesn't want guests."

"I had heard that," The Immortal intones gravely. He gives Xander a smile and a sharp look. "Your guide, Oujay, he is quite recovered?"

"Oh yeah," Xander replies. "Oujay's a trooper. He's fine, though I think he'll probably want more money if we ask him to go back."

"I sincerely doubt that," the Immortal replies with a wave of his hand. "Oujay and I are acquainted. He is a man of great honor and courage. If he has taken you on as a client, you can be certain he will complete the job."

"You're acquainted with Xander's guide?" Giles looks at the Immortal in mild shock. "Er, Tim is it?" The Immortal smiles and nods graciously at the Englishman. "You have been to that part of Africa before?"

"Not for many years," the Immortal says jovially. "I had some business down there at one time and Mr. Harris's guide was in my employ for a time. A fine man," he finishes with a smile. Dawn however notices that the good humor doesn't reach his dark eyes.

_What is he?_ Dawn wonders for about the millionth time since her sister started dating him. Buffy had never been to clear on the subject when she asked and Dawn had the suspicion that even her sister wasn't too clear on the details.

"I'm sorry Tim, but Buffy hasn't made your purpose for being here quite clear," Giles clears his throat slightly catching the lethal gaze from his former pupil. "Do you have some knowledge of this that we aren't aware of?"

"Oh, I highly doubt that," the Immortal says generously. All the rest of the group are watching the exchange with varying degrees of anxiety. Buffy is regarding Giles with cold fury, Robin and Xander are trying to look anywhere but at the two men, Willow is looking very anxious and Dawn and Kennedy are both gaping at the Head Watcher. Only Andrew and Faith are watching the Immortal. "I have some contacts, but I highly doubt they can compare to the Council's resources in matters like this."

"Um, yes well," Giles continues with a hesitant tone. "That may not be altogether true. As I'm sure Buffy told you, the Council was quite neatly decapitated last year and many of our best records were subsequently destroyed. Any information that you may have …" he trails off, looking hopeful.

"Yes, I remember," the Immortal shifts in his seat and Faith can't tell if he's uncomfortable or trying not to laugh. A gnawing suspicion tells her that it's the latter. "Well Mr. Giles, or shall I call you Rupert?" Giles just nods and the Immortal smiles. "Well Rupert, what I know is mostly rumor and speculation. As I told Buffy in Rome, the Al Hatari Bustan is a place shrouded in secrecy and the very darkest of magicks. What those men did there," he shudders elegantly and frowns. "Barbaric is too kind a word. To commit an act such as that leaves a stain on a place that time cannot erase. Places such as that develop a blackness that is best left not contemplated. Unfortunately, it also creates a void of sorts. A place where the balance of the forces of the universe become … unhinged shall we say? At any rate, according to the legends, it has since become a place of dark worship. Perhaps even home to a darkness greater than the one unleashed by those men."

"Darkness?" Kennedy gets up and her eyes are flashing with anger. "Are you saying that the Slayer line is evil? That Slayers are evil?"

"Nothing of the sort my dear," the Immortal says soothingly. "Acts of great violence are part of war. Something to be deplored, but at times deeply necessary. The Slayer legacy was a weapon of war for those who needed a champion to fight it. But as with all things, the creation of one thing can lead to the destruction of another. When the Slayer line was created, a force of great good was thrust into the world, but in doing so, it drew all that was good and useful energy in the area to create it. If you create a fire to warm your home, do you not have to first destroy a tree?" The Immortal shakes his head. "And that is what the Al Hatari Bustan has become. A place devoid of good or useful energy, and as such, it becomes a home to those who would destroy good and conspire for evil."

"So it's like evil's 'hood now?" Faith speaks up from the other side of the table and then shrugs. "Shit, I'm sitting on a Hellmouth in Cleveland. Big deal. We go in and take out the trash."

"Perhaps you don't understand me Miss Lehane," the Immortal says charitably. "A Hellmouth is a doorway to evil. A powerful one, but when all is said and done, it is merely a gate that can be closed. This is not so with the Al Hatari Bustan. What you have there is not a gate, but a garden of Hell itself."

"So why is it a big deal now then?" Xander asks, clearly perplexed. "I mean, the Slayer line has existed for thousands of years. Why is it such a problem now?"

"Because of what we did in Sunnydale," Buffy says quietly. She looks around the table and sees comprehension dawning on a few of the faces. "When we doled out all that power, we were taking it from the source. We made it …" she searches for a word, turning to look at her boyfriend who is nodding. "We made it, swell I guess. Sort of like a balloon."

"And this Kali character is looking to make it burst then?" Faith asks, the enormity of what Buffy had just said sinking in.

The Immortal nods and taps the photo. "What you did with the Slayer line has caused an enormous imbalance. By gutting this area you have for all intents and purposes created a pocket of Hell here on Earth, a pocket of a time and place long past. And somewhere inside that pocket, you woke up Kali."

"Aren't we just the fucking prize winners then?" Faith says with disgust. "You know, just once I'd like us to have a plan that works the way we want it to without some cosmic referee fucking it all up."

"Indeed, Miss Lehane," the Immortal grins at her. "While the phrasing was most likely different, I've heard the same thing said many a time."

"So what do we do?" Buffy asks Giles. "Should we get a group together and go shut this thing down? I figure 20 Slayers, Willow, you should be there too with the magick mojo and-" she pauses seeing the Head Watcher shake his head sadly. "What? You figure 20 isn't enough?"

"Most likely, 20 thousand would not be enough," Andrew tells her grimly. "Xander said in his report that the message that was sent through his guide said 'we shall not suffer the living to enter' or something along those lines right?" He glances at Xander who nods. "So say we send a whole army of Slayers. They get halfway there and all drop dead."

"Oh," Buffy looks peeved at this. "Yeah that's probably a bad thing. Okay, so what do we do?"

"Well that's why we're all here," Giles tells her. "We don't know."

"Hold up," Faith says quietly. "You say that only the dead can enter?"

"That's the jist," Andrew agrees and then his eyes lose focus for a minute. "Oh …"

"You can't mean …?" Giles gives Faith an appalled look. "Faith, you can't even be considering-"

"Consider what?" Faith glares at the Head Watcher. "Look Giles, we've had this talk before and I told you, you're wrong about him."

"Can someone please figgin' tell me what you are all talking about?" Dawn nearly shouts. Buffy had gone completely stiff and pale next to her at Faith's words. "Wrong about who?"

"Angel."

TBC


	7. Chapters 12, 13 and 14

**12**

**Toronto, Canada – May 18th, 2004**

Ethan walks down the hallway slowly, deliberately taking his time to annoy Carson Davies. It is nearly 10 pm and Ethan had been hoping to head home soon for some much needed sleep. His benefactor was a man who did not like to be kept waiting, almost as much as Ethan loathed being "summoned." The Englishman had purposely taken the stairs just to top it off. He arrives at Carson's office door and makes an obscene gesture with his finger before knocking politely on the heavy oak finish.

"Enter," Carson's voice calls impatiently from inside and Ethan's mouth twitches into a tiny smile before he resumes his poker face and opens the door to Davies' expansive office. The corner office allows a magnificent view of Lake Ontario and the lakeshore skyline. Carson is at the far end sitting at the head of a large conference table with a mass of files stacked neatly to one side. A uniformed military officer stands to Davies' left, gesturing at a spreadsheet on the table and obviously none to pleased.

"See here Carson," the officer is saying in a deep Mississippi drawl. The military man's hair is shaved so close to his scalp that the fuzzy grey bristles appear almost white against his sun-reddened skin. He's fairly tall, around 6'2" and despite the fact that he's obviously in his late fifties or early sixties, he still looks as though he could run ten miles and then wrestle a gorilla afterward. Ethan notes the two stars on the man's massive shoulders and realizes that whoever the General is, he's obviously a man of some influence. "Funding for the project was cut back in '99 and we've only managed to keep it afloat through back-channels and some generous sponsorship from the private sector. The whole thing's illegal as hell and all it would take is one clusterfuck to open his mouth to the wrong person on The Hill and the entire operation is in the shitter. That's the reason we've been doing most of the actual development in Canada." He glances up and sees Ethan and the General's eyes narrow suspiciously. Carson looks over as well and greets Ethan with a smile.

"Rayne, good of you to join us," Carson says magnanimously and nods to the officer. "General Nathan Wickwire, this is Ethan Rayne. Rayne here is our resident expert on the Watcher's Council and the Slayer legacy. He's managing all the intelligence we have on what the Council is up to." Wickwire's suspicious look doesn't leave his expression but he nods cordially and Ethan walks over to the conference table. He glances down at the spreadsheet and then at the mass of files before giving Carson a questioning look.

"That's very kind of you to say," Ethan tells Davies sycophantically. "What service may I be to you gentlemen?"

"We have a problem Rayne." Carson tells him, abruptly changing from a welcoming tone to one that's all business. "It looks like your friend Rupert Giles has cottoned on to some of what we have planned. He's called in all of his most experienced people to London including Buffy Summers. What can you tell us about her?"

"Miss Summers?" Ethan purses his lips thoughtfully and feels bitter anger rise in his chest. It was the Summers brat and her commando boyfriend along with Ripper who'd landed him in that cesspool in Nevada. "Vampire Slayer for oh, 9 years or so. Very successful at it too. She lived on a Hellmouth since she was 16 and has beaten everything that came her way. She has several friends that help her, a witch named Willow Rosenberg, two vampires, both of whom have souls, a carpenter and some other rag tags. Has a younger sister named Dawn …" He gives Carson a puzzled look. "Certainly you know all this Carson? What do you need me for?"

"I was hoping that you could help fill in our friend the General. He seems a bit skeptical as to the girl's powers." Carson manages to not roll his eyes when saying the last part.

Wickwire on the other hand just snorts. "Sounds like a lot of hooey to me. My cyborgs are killing machines. Vampire strength and speed, no emotions to cloud their judgment and combat training that make the SEALS look like choirboys. How is some slip of a girl supposed to stand up to that?"

"Have you heard of a branch of the military called The Initiative General?" Ethan asks him politely. Wickwire frowns and gives Ethan a hard look.

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. What's it to you?"

"Then you needn't take our word for it," Ethan smiles patiently at the scowling General and tosses him a cell phone. "Call whoever you know that was involved with the Initiative and ask them what they know about the Slayer. I would suggest asking Commander Riley Finn but as he and the Slayer are, or at least were, fairly close, I'd suggest asking someone else just in case he gets suspicious."

The General weighs the phone in his palm, his eyes looking shrewdly at Ethan and then tosses it back to the Englishman. "Why don't you just tell me?"

Ethan nods politely and then takes a seat at the table and waits for Wickwire to sit as well before continuing. "General, the Slayer, or as we should say now since there are a great many of them, _a_ Slayer, is a girl imbued with greater strength and speed then a vampire, with the same healing abilities and tolerance for injury. For example, a Slayer could quite easily fall from a tenth floor balcony onto cement, and then get up and walk away. She wouldn't feel too great, but she'd be no more hurt then you or I if we fell from a tenth of the height. Her co-ordination, balance and fighting skills are equally enhanced and with the proper training are utterly terrifying. The longer they stay alive, generally, the stronger and more skilled they become. Survival of the fittest and all that. Now back when there was only one, most Slayers generally had a fairly short life expectancy. Demon fighting isn't conducive to a long life span after all. Miss Summers is currently the longest lived Slayer in over 600 years. I think the record was about twelve years back in the 1400's and that particular Slayer only survived so long because she quit and went into hiding. Miss Summers did no such thing. There's another one named Faith that has been around six years or so now. She came over to our side for a while but unfortunately seems to have rediscovered her "mission" so to speak."

Wickwire looks as though he wants to say something but Ethan holds up a hand smiling. "I know what you're going to say General. How could there be another Slayer six years ago? Well Miss Summers actually died once for a few minutes but was brought back after drowning, hence the second Slayer."

"So how many of these do the Council have?" Wickwire is frowning, suddenly seeming a lot less sure of his cyborg army.

Ethan shrugs. "No one knows for certain. The Council have tracked down several hundred in the past year but there are still probably hundreds, possibly thousands more of them out there that are as yet undiscovered. One of the projects Mr. Davies here has me working on is locating Slayers that may be, oh shall we say, not as inclined to heroism."

"You mean rogues?" Wickwire smiles slightly at that. "Makes sense I guess. Human nature says that not all of them would be ready to join the Council and would rather use their new skills for more selfish purposes."

"Exactly," Ethan grimaces however. "Unfortunately, it hasn't gone as well as planned. The ones we did find, we have killed in Mr. Davies and his group's attempts to create super vampires. Most of the girls would rather not die oddly enough."

Davies glares at Ethan and pounds his fist on the desk. "That's enough of that Rayne. Your job is to find them. What we do with them after is our business."

"Very true Carson," Ethan nods apologetically to the other man. "But it doesn't change the fact that out of all the girls we've tried it with, not one of them have been stable enough to be of any real strategic use."

"Stable?" Wickwire frowns and reaches into his breast pocket for a cigar. He bites off the end and lights it with a Marine Corps Zippo. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well vampires as a rule are pretty nasty customers General. At least the ones that are halfway capable are. Many demons are a lot more trustworthy than vampires as they aren't necessarily predators and are much more equitable when dealing with humans. Vampires on the other hand are first and foremost killers. The ferocity of the demon that enters them is somewhat related to the strength of the human host they take over. It's one of the reasons that most vampires choose to sire young people in their late teens or twenties, and when a human as powerful as a Vampire Slayer is turned, well let's just say they have a penchant for malevolence that would make Hitler blush."

The General chews on his cigar thoughtfully, his eyes still taking in Ethan shrewdly. "So what would you suggest Rayne?"

"General, I quite think," Davies stands up, red-faced and furious but Wickwire silences him with a wave of his hand.

"You'll get your innings Davies. But first I'd like to hear Rayne's thoughts on this. You said he's your expert on Slayers didn't you?"

"Well yes," Carson stammers but Wickwire fixes him with a cold stare and suddenly Ethan realizes that Carson is this man's subordinate and not the other way around. _Was the military controlling this?No, probably not, but this Wickwire seems to hold cards that Davies doesn't. Interesting. _ Carson takes his seat numbly though he's obviously still seething at Ethan's suggestion that his actions to create Slayer Vampires were foolish. Ethan himself begins to wonder if this is the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He has a couple of trump cards of his own that Carson was not yet privy to.

"Well, General," Ethan continues smoothly, ignoring Carson's near apoplectic appearance at the head of the table. "Carson had a good idea at one point. He had wanted to use a souled vampire to turn the Slayers we caught. The theory was that if a vampire with a soul was to sire someone, the vampire would be a lot more manageable."

"Like that fella Angel we sent some of my cyborgs after last year?" Wickwire enquires, tapping an ash from his cigar and frowning.

"Yes, General," Ethan replies in a matter-of-fact tone. "There are two vampires with souls actually. Angel and another vampire that has been working with him named Spike. Both of them are … well acquainted with Miss Summers." Ethan emphasizes the word _acquainted_ slightly and Wickwire coughs hard on his cigar, chuffing out smoke.

"You mean she was fucking two vampires?"

"Not concurrently I believe," Ethan says helpfully. "But yes, my information is that she had …relations with them both. It's all pretty irrelevant though. My sources say that both of them are on their way to London right now actually and will be assisting the Council."

"Assisting them in what?" Wickwire asks.

"In entering the Al Hatari Bustan I should think," Ethan drops this bombshell in a quiet and reasoned voice.

"What?" Davies comes out of his chair again and looks at Ethan, his features agog with shock and anger. "They're going where?"

"Carson, please try to calm down," Ethan says gently. He takes a pitcher of ice water from the table and pours a glass and sets it in front of Davies. "Sit down and have a drink." Davies returns to his seat dumbly and ignores the water, staring at Ethan with a mixture of fear and outrage. "We know that they sent Mr. Harris to Africa to find it and our sources told us about his 'encounter' there for want of a better term. Despite the damage done to it last year, the Council still has one of the finest repositories of demon lore and experts in the world. You can't expect them not to have figured it out by now. '_This is a place of the dead. We do not suffer the living to come here.'_" Ethan repeats calmly."Not exactly rocket science to figure that one out. They are both friends of the Slayer and they have now both run off to London when we know the Council is having a massive meeting about Mr. Harris' discovery. What other reason could there be?"

"Jesus Christ Rayne, when were you planning on telling me this?" Carson's rage is starting to become overrun with panic. "We have to make calls, let the other members know what is going on! There's no time to waste and something this important needs to be-"

Wickwire grabs Davies' wrist and Carson turns to look at him with a puzzled

expression. "Carson, sit," Wickwire tells him firmly. "When did they get to London Rayne?"

"Not there yet according to my information," Ethan tells him, stifling a grin. Carson couldn't be screwing up better if Ethan had planned it. _Well_, Ethan tells himself truthfully_. I sort of did_. "They should arrive early morning London time." He checks his watch. "About 2 hours from now."

"So time is on our side right now," Wickwire takes a thoughtful puff of his cigar and then smiles and slaps Ethan on the shoulder. "You're a piece of work aren't you Rayne? Good job. We can head this off fairly easily now that we know what the Council's plans are. It's only a pair of vampires after all and it will be at a couple of days before they can get them to Butswana. The real question is what to do about all these damn Slayers. You say catchin' them isn't worth it Rayne?"

"I said nothing of the sort General," Wickwire nearly drops his cigar and gives Rayne a stunned look. Carson looks on the verge of an aneurism.

"What's that? I thought you said that vampin' them was a waste of time?"

"Well, yes and no General. I said it served no strategic purpose. Turning and unleashing one of them at the proper time and place however could serve many tactical purposes and I certainly suggest we keep that in mind. However, my understanding is that your cyborg project is extremely expensive and I can probably surmise that using Mr. Davies' volunteers is less desirable then using, oh trained soldiers say."

"Damn straight," Wickwire growls. "I'd wanted to use some of the boys from Bragg. Delta Force or Rangers, but the panty waists at the OSRD and the Pentagon wouldn't allow it and-" suddenly the General stops talking and a broad light of understanding fills his eyes. His face is pale but then splits into a huge toothy grin making him look rather like a deranged lawn mower. "Rayne, that's a bloody brilliant idea. Why the hell didn't I think of that?"

"Well you doubted the actual strength of the Slayers General until now. One can hardly fault you for not thinking of utilizing them," Ethan says generously. He prays inwardly for the General to ask the question and is rewarded almost instantly.

"So when do you think I could lay hands on some of these Slayers Rayne?"

Ethan grins and drops his bomb. "I have three ready right now General." The silence that greets this statement is palpable.

**13**

**Cleveland, Ohio - May 12th **

Taryn hadn't been disappointed by Angela's reaction to the news that she was in charge while Faith and Robin went to England. Apparently Robin had broken the news to her earlier and when Taryn arrived at the older Slayer's apartment later, Angela had been is a state of barely controlled fury. She'd answered the door and upon seeing Taryn at the door, had looked as though she wanted to slam it right back in the younger woman's face. Taryn just grinned and walked in, not bothering to take off her shoes. Angela shut the door and looked at the taller girl grimly. Taryn pretended not to notice. "Robin told you the score?" she had asked artfully.

Angela had just nodded, still not trusting herself to speak. Taryn merely waited a moment, holding the other girl's gaze steadily. Finally Angela looked away and Taryn asked quietly, "Is there going to be a problem?"

Angela said nothing and went out to the spartan kitchen. All it had was a stove, fridge, sink and cupboards. She got a glass out of the cupboard by the sink and filled it at the sink. She leaned against the cupboard and took a sip, still not looking at Taryn.

"Look Angela," Taryn said in the same quiet voice. "I didn't ask for it. They told me after they told you. But it doesn't change the fact that for the next few days I'm the boss. If you can't deal with that, I need to know right now." Taryn held her ground, wondering if Angela might hit her.

"Yeah," Angela said in a defeated voice, the anger seeming to seep out of her limbs to be replaced by surrender. "I know you didn't. Robin explained it to me and made it pretty clear." She finally looked up at Taryn and gave her a sour look. "You're Faith's favorite. Me and Kara both know that. You're both from Boston, you both like the same music, same taste in clothes, blah blah blah. Faith and Robin know you better and trust you. I get it."

"You get it do you?" Taryn felt as though someone had just kicked her in the chest. "You get that I'm the favorite?" She took an angry step forward and Angela hastily took a step back, slopping water all over the legs of her jeans as her ass bumped into the counter. "You think they chose me because I'm Faith's fucking lap dog or something?"

"Look Taryn, I'm not mad at you okay?" Angela poured the remaining water in her glass into the sink and pushed her hair back out of her eyes. "You and Faith are friends and she knows you better and trusts you. Why wouldn't she pick you?"

Taryn resisted the urge to leap across the kitchen and smash her fist into Angela's face only because she knew what Robin and Faith would say if she did. _Leaders need a thick skin. Sometimes obedience has to be enough when approval isn't gonna happen_. "Fine," Taryn almost spits out. She blows out a deep breath and tries to keep her voice steady. "I want you on patrol tonight. Kara is taking Cuyahoga Heights and I want you out by The Angle. I'll take Forest Hill. Take you cell phone." Taryn had risen and walked out at that point, still shaking with barely controlled rage. "_You're Faith's favorite_". The words echoed in her ears all the way to Kara's. She passed on the same message to the other Slayer, who in her defense had seemed generally pleased for Taryn that she had gotten the responsibility.

Now it was four days later and Angela's words still rankled slightly. _Was that it_? She asked herself, still lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. _Was the only reason she'd been left in charge was because like Angela said, she knew Faith and Robin better?_ Taryn knew she was a good Slayer. Even Buffy had said so according to Faith. So why was she letting Angela's sour grapes piss her off so badly? She was also house-sitting at Robin and Faith's while they were gone and had found out early that the fridge contained nothing but some elderly left-over Chinese food that looked like it could get up and walk away itself and bottled water. She decides to get up and go out for breakfast and proceeds to the shower, turning up the hot water as far as she could stand it before stepping under the scalding stream. She wet her long hair and let the hot water pound on the back of her neck for a moment before reaching for the soap. Fifteen minutes later she was toweling off and then wiped the steam from the mirror so she could brush her teeth. She stared at her reflection a moment, scowling slightly and then proceeded to load her toothbrush. Another fifteen minutes and she had dressed, put her still damp hair in a pony tail and was heading for the door when a knock had almost caused her to drop her purse. She went to the door and checked the spy hole. A man in his late forties was outside. He had dark brown hair that was graying at the temples and a long face with strong cheekbones. He was wearing a dark gray suit and a white shirt with a striped tie. She stepped away from the door slightly puzzled. The guy looked like a lawyer or something. She engaged the security chain and opened the door a crack. The man smiled broadly and made a neat bow. "Taryn Murphy I presume?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Taryn lets slip, taken completely off guard. Who knew she was here? Well Faith and Robin of course, and Angela and Kara both knew. Taryn had not missed the knowing look on Angela's face when she'd informed them she'd be house sitting while Robin and Faith were gone.

"Ethan Rayne, Miss Murphy," the man's British accent was impossible to miss. "Mr. Giles thought it best I should come while your Watcher and Miss Lehane are away."

"Mr. Giles?" Taryn feels her heart rise and sink all at the same time. The guy was obviously Watcher's Council which meant he wasn't here to serve her with a subpoena, but it was also clear that even if Faith and Robin trusted her, the Head of the Watcher's Council did not. "Just a second," she closes the door and disengages the chain before re-opening the door fully. "No one told me you were coming."

"It's rather hectic in London right now I'm afraid. I just found out myself a couple of hours ago. I was in Toronto on Council business and Mr. Giles called me and asked me to come to Cleveland. Something has come up." He smiles again broadly and nods toward the living room of the apartment. "May I come in and we'll discuss it?"

Taryn almost says okay but catches herself. She eyes the man suspiciously. "Looking for an invitation?" she asks him in a now harsh tone.

Ethan just laughs however and takes out a small crucifix from his coat pocket. He presses it hard into the flesh of his cheek for a moment and then takes it away. Taryn can see a small white impression of the cross on the man's ruddy cheek which fades quickly as the blood rushes back. Taryn grins at him sheepishly and holds the door open and Ethan steps inside, fastidiously wiping his shoes on the mat. He carries a small valise in his left hand and Taryn leads him into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. Ethan takes a seat across from her in a threadbare chair and sets the valise on the coffee table between them. He opens the catches and extracts several sheets and photographs from it and sets them down for Taryn to examine.

"The reason I'm here Miss Murphy is because something has come up. What do you know about the Hellmouth?" Ethan sits back in the chair and eyes her appraisingly. His smile is still there but there's something about the man's eyes that Taryn doesn't like. They are dark like her own, but seem to glimmer with suppressed mirth.

Taryn masters her disquiet and shrugs. "Gateway to evil from what I know. Monster magnet and general all around pain in the ass."

"A reasonable if somewhat concise description," Ethan replies, still smiling. He taps one of the photos and Taryn sees what looks like several hooded figures entering a building taken with a telephoto lens. There are several more pictures that reveal the faces of the hooded figures as vampires. "These are the Order of Rhamnusia. They worship the Greek Goddess Rhamnusia, or Nemesis as she is often known as. Our information is that they plan to open the Hellmouth tonight." Ethan hands Taryn a sheet of paper with an address on it. "Do you know where this is?"

Taryn scans the address, her doubts about Rayne suddenly forgotten as the scope of what he had just told her sinks in. _A vampire order trying to open the Hellmouth_? Taryn grins despite herself. _Faith will be pissed she missed this_, she thinks. She hands the sheet back to Ethan and nods. "Yeah, its near the stadium." Something bothers her though. "But that's nowhere near the Hellmouth. Why would they be there?"

"Because my dear, we aren't going to wait for nightfall and their arrival at the Hellmouth. We're going to hit them in daylight," Ethan says with a somewhat exasperated tone, though he continues smiling.

"Oh, right," Taryn feels fairly stupid and nods. "Sure, makes sense. You want me to gather the troops?"

"That's the idea," Ethan nods. "I think the sooner we get there the better."

"Right," Taryn picks up the cordless phone and calls Kara and Angela while Ethan sits quietly in his chair, still smiling. As Taryn hangs up the phone she again feels a prickle of distrust on the back of her neck. "You know, maybe I should call Mr. Giles and just confirm all this. No offence Mr. Rayne, but I don't know who you are."

"By all means," Rayne replies tiredly and rubs his eyes. "And tell Rupert to stop calling me at 5 am when I already have jet lag," he grimaces comically at the Slayer and then gathers the photos and papers and begins tucking them into the valise. "The others are meeting us here?"

"At the coffee shop down the street actually," Taryn replies and picks up the cordless phone again. Suddenly she's feeling very foolish. First the stupid comment about the address not being at the Hellmouth and now she's going to call the Head of the Council of Watchers to double check a guy whose obviously been with the Council for years? Hadn't she heard the name Ethan Rayne before? She tries to remember and it seems as though Faith had mentioned the name once, but she couldn't recall the context. Something about Giles' drinking buddy? Faith had been laughing when she made the comment to Buffy during the other Slayer's visit. Shit, she was about to call Rupert Giles to check the legitimacy of his best friend. She sets the phone down purposefully and smiles at Ethan. "On second thought, it's probably best if we get there soon. I'd like to grab something before the others get there."

Ethan lets go of the Taser he'd been reaching for in the valise, prepared to stun the girl if she actually placed the call. He smiles again and allows Taryn to lead him into the hallway.

Two hours later the four of them pull up to a small warehouse near Brown's Stadium. Angela had looked pleased that Ethan had shown up, seeming to Taryn as though she'd been vindicated in Taryn having been chosen over her. Taryn chooses to ignore it and checks her bag to make sure she has everything she needs. Several stakes, a small crossbow, some crosses, two road flares and a vial of holy water. "How many of them do you figure we're going to run into Mr. Rayne?" Kara asks nervously, checking her own bag.

"Perhaps as many as a dozen," Ethan replies quietly. Both Taryn and Angela look up at that.

"A dozen?" Taryn asks a bit nervously. "Isn't that sort of long odds Mr. Rayne?"

"Not really," Ethan replies. He glances over his shoulder at her in the back seat. "Most of them should be sleeping. It's just after noon. If we go in fast, we should be able to get half of them before they even wake up." He glances over at Angela in the driver's seat. "Are you ready dear?"

"Sure," Angela shoots Taryn a nasty look and the four of them get out of the car. They cross the broad sunny street quietly, noting that the windows of the warehouse are boarded up. "Looks like they won't see us coming," Angela says smugly to Ethan. "Good job Mr. Rayne. It's nice to have a real leader here."

Taryn stiffens but bites her tongue. Something about this is triggering alarms in her head. She touches Kara on the shoulder as Angela and Ethan peer around the corner of the building. "Kara, did you bring your phone?"

"Yeah sure," Kara reaches into her bag and hands Taryn the cell phone. She gives the other Slayer a puzzled look. "Something wrong Taryn?"

"I don't think so," Taryn replies in a whisper. Ethan and Angela round the corner of the building and disappear. "I'll catch up in a sec Kara." The other Slayer nods and follows the others. Taryn checks Kara's speed dial and frowns when she sees the Council's number isn't in there. She punches in Faith's number from memory and the voice mail picks up automatically. She must be in a meeting and has it off, Taryn thinks to herself. In reality Faith's phone is still on the bedside table of her and Robin's bedroom underneath a t-shirt, its battery having died earlier that day. She leaves a quick message and then hustles around the corner to find the others at the end of a narrow alley, looking back in mild annoyance. "Sorry," Taryn whispers sheepishly and they move to the back of the building. Again the windows are boarded up and the heavy iron door has a large lock on it.

Ethan examines the lock and grimaces. "Probably locked from the inside too. I'd prefer not to kick the door in if possible. No sense alerting them too quickly."

"Why don't we just burn the fucker down?" Taryn asks, her voice slightly hoarse. She's still nervous and can't explain it.

"There might be sewer access," Ethan shakes his head. "We can't risk even one of them escaping. If they succeed in opening the Hellmouth," Ethan gives an elegant shudder. "Well, let's not ponder that shall we?"

"What's this?" Kara is pulling at some shrubs at the side of the building and a pair of cellar doors are revealed as she pulls away the tangled foliage.

"Excellent," Ethan says quietly and pats Kara on the back. There is an old padlock and a chain lashing the door handles closed and Kara takes the lock in her hand and yanks down hard. It breaks easily and she and Ethan unwind the chain as quietly as they can. Ethan then takes one of the doors handles and pulls gently. It opens into the darkness below. He takes out a crossbow and motions for the girls to follow. "Stay close to the sides of the stairs," he says in a whisper as they descend after him. "Less chance of them squeaking and giving us away."

The four of them descend into the cellar and Taryn just manages to stifle a sneeze in the dusty air. The cellar is full of useless junk and broken crates. On the far wall is another flight of steps leading up to a closed metal door. "Just our luck if the bloody thing is locked," Ethan mutters. He moves forward but Angela grabs his arm and shakes her head smiling.

"Not this time Mr. Rayne. If there's a nest up there, it's better if the Slayers go first. Why don't you hang back and guard the rear? The Council would be pretty pissed if we went and got one of its top Watchers killed."

"Quite right Angela," Ethan gives her a smile. "Common sense takes precedence before manners I suppose."

Angela nods and a catches Taryn's eye as she heads to the stairs. Angela is obviously taking great pleasure in the fact that Taryn is no longer in charge. Angela ascends the steps to the other door and Kara and Taryn follow close behind. Angela tries the door knob and it turns easily in her grip. She then listens at the door and finally turns and nods at the others. Taryn and Kara both take out their crossbows and each stuff a stake in their belt. Angela opens the door noiselessly and steps through, glancing left and right. She moves to the side and Taryn follows, noticing how heavy the metal door is and the fact that it is open. The alarm bells are going off a lot louder now and she almost stops before passing through the doorway.

"What's wrong?" Kara whispers from behind her.

"Nothing," Taryn shakes it off and heads through into the warehouse. With the windows boarded up the place is almost pitch black. Perfect for vamps, she thinks ruefully. Rayne's right. This has to be the place. She senses more than sees Angela ahead of her and wills her Slayer hearing to try and locate any other movement. This is crazy, she thinks. Vamps can see in the dark and they don't breathe so we can't even hear that. We'll trip over one at this rate and set the whole gang of them on us. Throwing caution to the wind she reaches into her bag and her hand closes over one of the two flares that she keeps in it. She roots around some more as quietly as she can and finds the second one. In one swift move she sets off the first flare and then tosses it across the room before striking the second one. The sudden burst of light blinds her for a second and she can hear both Angela and Kara gasp in sudden surprise. She blinks twice and looks around, crossbow held out and ready to shoot the first vamp she sees.

The warehouse is empty. Utterly deserted. The flickering light of the flares blisters on the barren cinderblock walls and nothing else. "Well shit," Taryn lowers her crossbow and spits. "Talk about a letdown."

Angela is Taryn's face suddenly, her face a mask of rage and terror. "What the fuck was that?" She nearly screams at her. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Back up Angela," Taryn says warningly. "And for god's sake, invest in some Binaca." The dark-haired Slayer gestures around the room. "Vamps can see in the dark asshole and they don't breathe to give themselves away. How the fuck were you planning on finding them? Anyhow, there's obviously no vamps here so I just saved us about forty-five minutes of terrified blind-mans bluff. Let's tell Ethan and get out of here. We can stake out the Hellmouth and catch the baddies there." She turns and heads back to the door to see it closed. She frowns when she notices that there is no handle on the inside. She looks around at the other doors. All of them are missing handles too. Taryn then whirls as she hears the sound of a dead-bold clicking and realizes too late what's happened.

"Try the windows, the doors, anything!" She shouts at the others as she hurls herself toward the nearest window. Its protected with iron bars sunk into the concrete and heavy iron roll-down shutters that are apparently fastened from the outside. The other two Slayers just gape at her and Taryn screams at the two of them just as two heavy canisters fall from the ceiling, filling the room with a misty white gas. "It's a trap!" She shouts again but suddenly she's starting to feel very light headed. The world seems to be getting extremely foggy all of a sudden and she feels her knees buckle. She can hear Kara crying somewhere to her left but it sounds like she's a great distance away. The room spins crazily and soon there is nothing but darkness.

**14**

**Toronto, Canada – May 18th, 2004 **

"Three?" Wickwire says in almost a whisper. "You have them? Now?"

"Yes sir," Ethan smiles and picks up his cell phone. "They're currently all under heavy sedation at a private clinic in Cleveland." He places the call. "Tanner? Rayne here. Are the subjects still safe?" He pauses listening. "Excellent. Some guests and myself will be arriving later to retrieve them. Can you make sure they are ready for travel? Some heavy restraints too please Tanner. I shouldn't want them mobile if they wake up testy." He kills the call and smiles at the General and Davies. "They are at your disposal General."

Davies is barely coherent in his fury. "Rayne, this is preposterous!" He's shouting, a large vein in his temple throbbing as he does so. "I cannot believe that you went behind my back on this! How dare you do something like this without informing me?"

"Easy Carson," Wickwire says calmly, eyeing Ethan with something almost akin to respect. "Your man here has done well and from what I gather, if he'd told you about it, they'd all be dead instead of alive and useful."

"With all due respect Nathan, you are not a member of The Left Hand Path," Davies replies in a cold fury. "Rayne here has deliberately disobeyed orders and as a military man I'm sure you understand the importance of that!"

"I do indeed Carson," Wickwire says, stubbing out his cigar. "I also, as a military man, understand when a man doesn't follow an order that is patently ridiculous. Mr. Rayne here exercised his judgment and no harm done. As a matter of fact, he did me and you folks in The Path a favor keeping you out of it." Wickwire surveys Carson coldly and Ethan feels the beginning of elation start to creep up his spine. He'd gambled and it had paid off. Whoever this Wickwire was, he obviously had the clout to put Davies in his place. "I think I'll take Mr. Rayne here and head down to Cleveland to take a look at these Slayers. Mr. Rayne," he turns and gives Ethan a broad smile. "If these Slayer gals are anything like you make them out to be, I think you just made me a very happy man."

"But General," Carson pleads, his anger now turning to fear as he starts to realize what Ethan had just pulled on him. "The man is a rogue. He doesn't follow orders, keeps things from his superiors and makes decisions without consulting others. Are you really prepared to trust him?"

"Good question Carson," Wickwire ponders this for a moment. He unholsters his sidearm and tosses it to Ethan. "Mr. Rayne, shoot Mr. Davies please."

Ethan raises the weapon and points it at Davies who screams and then squeezes the trigger instantly. Nothing happens. The safety is on. Wickwire laughs. "He has no problem following my orders Carson." He takes the .45 back from Ethan and then looks back at Davies. He shakes his head in disgust. He clicks off the safety and tosses the weapon back to Ethan. Ethan raises the weapon and blows Carson's head apart in a shower of messy brains and blood. Wickwire grins and takes the gun back from Ethan before holstering it. "Mr. Rayne, I doubt Machiavelli was an Englishman with brown hair, but he should have been."

TBC


	8. Chapters 15, 16 and 17

**15**

**London, England – May 8th 2004**

"Angel?" Buffy says the name quietly, almost to herself. She glances over at Faith, a tiny crease in her forehead. "Are you nuts?"

"Hold up B," Faith holds up her hands defensively and shakes her head at the other Slayer. "You said yourself that he was the one that showed up and gave you that amulet thingy. Now you think he's playing for the other side?" Faith snorts and shakes her head again. "And I thought you said you knew the guy."

"Faith," Giles interrupts, seeing the color rising swiftly in Buffy's cheeks and wanting to avoid a brawl in the middle of his office. "Your loyalty to Angel is commendable but the fact remains that he is currently the CEO of the most notorious institution of evil in the western hemisphere." He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes briefly before putting them back on. "We cannot assume that he is on our side."

"Horseshit," Faith pounds the table hard with her fist, startling the others. Her skin is ivory against the black tank top she wears and her eyes glisten with anger. She gets up and starts to pace, her stride full of suppressed anger and nervous energy, like that of a caged lioness. She stops suddenly and glares at Andrew. "You saw him spaz. What did you think?"

Andrew jumps a little at being singled out. "Me? Ahh, well …" he shoots a nervous glance at Giles. "Well he was helpful in locating Dana and when he and Spike were in Rome-"

"What?" Buffy's cheeks are white and her eyes wide with shock. "Angel and SPIKE were in Rome? But …" she turns and looks at Giles aghast. "Spike is alive? And he was in Rome? With Angel?" her voice is nearly a shout.

"Um, well yes," the Head Watcher shoots Andrew a murderous look and then sighs and shakes his head. "It appears Spike is still alive and in Los Angeles."

"But," Willow interrupts with a confused look and her cheeks are pale with shock. "Spike died! He died closing the Hellmouth … didn't he?" She looks at Buffy and then back at Giles. "How is he still alive?"

"I'm afraid it's a rather long story," Giles begins but Andrew interrupts having taken refuge behind the high back of his chair.

"His essence was stored in the amulet and he re-corporealized several months ago."

"Apparently not so long then," Giles says with a wry look at the hiding Watcher. "But it changes nothing. Angel is still running Wolfram and Hart and Spike is for whatever reason still alive and working with him."

"For that matter, Spike's involvement with Angel only reinforces the idea that he's maybe not on the up and up," Robin opines from his seat, earning him a vicious look from Faith. "Faith, I know you have a lot of trust in this Angel character but from what I've heard he's no choir boy and Spike is an opportunist at best. He's gonna just go with the flow."

"And what the fuck would you know about it?" Buffy nearly screams at the black Watcher, springing to her feet. Robin blanches but holds his ground.

"Buffy, you really need to-"

"Not kick your ass from here to Dover?" Buffy finishes for him angrily. The color is rushing back to her cheeks and now she is growing nearly purple with fury.

"Well is he wrong?" Xander asks with a hint of brittleness in his tone. Buffy shifts her gaze to him and the one-eyed man holds up a hand. "I give the guy credit for what he did in Sunnydale but he's not exactly the poster boy for moral virtue Buffy."

Buffy looks around the room and only Faith and the Immortal return her gaze. The Immortal gets to his feet and takes her hand in his gently. Buffy tries to jerk away from him, still with her eyes locked on Robin. The Immortal holds her hand firmly and shakes his head.

"Buffy, please, sit down." She turns to look at him, her eyes flashing dangerously but he simply smiles and repeats his request. "Please, sit." He releases his grip and gestures to her chair politely and the blond Slayer looks around the room again and before resuming her seat huffily. The Immortal sits as well and gestures to Andrew. "Mr. Wells, please continue."

Andrew rises from his refuge behind the chair and blinks uncertainly before getting up and resuming his seat. "Right," he says shakily, still eyeing Buffy warily. "Angel and Spike. Anyhow, from what I saw they didn't seem like they were evil or anything. Angel was power tripping a little maybe but he seemed to genuinely want to help and impress us. I'd say he's still doing what he thinks is right but I can't say absolutely what he thinks that is anymore."

"I'll trust his judgment," Faith says in a low and even tone though she too had been giving Robin a hard look after his comments. She looks up the table at Giles. "Well Giles, what do you think?"

Giles sighs again and looks over to Willow. The witch returns his gaze helplessly, uncertain of what to say next. The Immortal speaks, surprising them all. "We are talking about William the Bloody and Angelus, are we not?"

"You know them?" Buffy swings her gaze to her boyfriend and the Immortal nods fractionally.

"We are old acquaintances," he replies vaguely. He purses his lips thoughtfully and he looks back down at the photo of Kali. The pale tan color of the light cashmere sweater he wears accents the rich chocolate of his skin. Faith is again struck by the uncanny resemblance he bears to Robin. "There is a prophecy. A very ancient one that says the vampire with a soul will play a vital role in the apocalypse for either the side of good or evil. Perhaps this is the time?" He looks askance at the Head Watcher, his expression thoughtful and his hands clasped simply on the table in front of him.

Giles eyes the Immortal thoughtfully and then nods. He glances toward the large window on the south wall of his office. The rich mahogany of the room glows almost with an oily sheen in the mellow light from the shaded lamps lining the wall and the flicker of the fireplace. Giles shivers slightly despite the pleasant warmth of the room. "The Shanshu Prophecy. Yes, I've heard of it." He clears his throat before continuing. "You do know the final result for the vampire in question Tim?" The question comes out as more of a statement.

"Oh yes," the Immortal smiles ruefully and nods. His fingers toy with the expensive pen on the pad of paper in front of them. Despite the obvious importance of the topics being discussed, no one has bothered to take notes. The Immortal clears his throat before continuing. "The vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will shanshu."

"What does square dancing have to do with it?" Buffy asks, pushing her own pad aside and trying hard to keep her temper in check. She looks around the room questioningly.

"It's an ancient word Buffy," Giles explains in a tired voice. "Its earliest translations mean 'death' but in this case it means to become mortal and be able to die. The vampire with the soul will once again become mortal."

Buffy is silent for a moment as she takes this in. Only the way she grips her own pen and the whiteness of her knuckles betray her shock. Willow manages to restrain a small gasp and Dawn is staring at Giles with her mouth wide open. "You mean," the younger Summers girl asks in a strained voice, "that either Spike or Angel will become human again?"

Faith's hand twitches briefly and Robin catches the motion. He gives her an odd look but the Slayer just shakes her head at him. Her memory tour with Angel the previous year hadn't just shown her all of Angel's deeds in the long past. She had caught a glimpse of one other memory too; a horrible, heartbreaking and secret memory. It was a memory of one perfect day as a human that no one else knew anything about. A perfect day with Buffy.

"Well the prophecy is fairly vague Dawn," Giles says slowly, inwardly wincing that this subject had come up. "As you know, many of the ancient prophecies tend to be conveniently unspecific and a lot of the time it really depends on the skill of the translator. There are many linguistic nuances and metaphor that tend to-"

"There's the Giles we all know and love," Xander says with a trace of sarcasm. "You can take the tweedy book guy out of the library but you can't take-"

"Thank you Xander," Giles replies tersely. "Anyhow, the point is that you have to take a lot of these prophecies with an enormous grain of salt. Tim," Giles is anxious to steer the conversation back to topic and Buffy's facial expression is all the impetus he needs to move on, "how are you acquainted with Spike and Angel?"

The Immortal shrugs elegantly and Dawn notices that he seems a little tense at the shift back to his past. "It is nothing really. We encountered each other in Rome many years ago and," he shrugs again. "It was a minor encounter truthfully."

"Do you think he's trustworthy?" Buffy asks him quietly.

"Angelus?" The Immortal chuckles. "Not the adjective that springs to mind. But Angel," he pauses and taps his fingers on the polished oak tabletop. "It is hard to say. I would hazard a guess that he wouldn't trust me very much." He pauses again and grins. "I would say that for the task you are talking about he would be completely trustworthy."

"See!" Xander exclaims. "Tim doesn't think we can trust him either. It's like I've been … what?" He shoots a puzzled look at the Immortal. "You think we can trust him?"

"Yes," the Immortal smiles patiently at the young man and then nods to Faith. "I would say your instincts on this are correct Miss Lehane. Though Angel and I are not what I would call friendly, he is a champion. I would state categorically that he is well suited to the task,"

Faith's neck prickles a little at this. She isn't sure how she feels about Tim but she is fairly certain that he holds no love for Angel and the fact that he is so readily agreeing with her about him sends warning signals to the tips of her fingers. However, she can't very well change her mind at this point so she simply nods and resumes her seat. Giles sighs again and checks the clock. "Well we needn't rush a decision today. Let's call it a day and sleep on it shall we?"

xxxxxxx

Faith walks out onto the balcony shivering lightly in the cool spring air of London. She had brushed off Robin's advances claiming an upset stomach but in reality she needed some time alone. Time to think.

_Angel and Spike_. _The vampire with a soul will become mortal again_. Lot's to digest and she had wanted very badly to go to Buffy and Dawn's room earlier in the evening to discuss it. Surprisingly, the Immortal had begged off from staying at the Watcher's Headquarters claiming that since he was in London it would be best for him to check on some of the interests he had in the city. Apparently he maintained a flat in St. James Wood and Buffy and Dawn were to move there tomorrow for the duration of their stay. He had seemed to understand instinctively that Buffy needed to be 'sans boyfriend' that evening and had departed with only a chaste kiss on the Slayer's cheek.

"_What is he?" Faith had asked Robin absently as they unpacked earlier in the evening. Robin was only wearing his boxers after their shower and had straightened up and stretched before asking. She wasn't looking too obviously but had caught the smooth line of his muscles and the long scar on his stomach in the reflection from the full-sized mirror on the antique wardrobe that stood across from the bed in their room. She felt a stir of lust but fought it off and kept brushing her still damp hair. _

"_What's who?" Robin replied distractedly. He had decided that he was going to only answer her direct questions after the debacle at the meeting earlier. He knew that Faith highly valued Angel's friendship but hadn't realized how deep his comment had pissed her off until after the meeting. They'd barely exchanged a word other than the bare basics. He'd tried to touch her in the shower but she'd shrugged him off. _

"_Buffy's guy," Faith said, still trying to sound light. "He's not human." _

"_No," Robin replied carefully. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand absently over his chin. _

"_And?" Faith looked at him pointedly in the reflection of the mirror. Finally the Watcher looked up, taking in the pleasant view of her nearly naked form from the back as she brushed out her long dark hair; the slim legs and round curves of her muscles with a pair of flimsy black panties that ended at the slim curve of her abdomen. He shook his head and continued to dress, pulling on a t-shirt. _

"_I don't know," he said truthfully. "Giles wasn't too forthcoming on the details." The Watcher paused and frowned slightly. Giles usually was fairly forthcoming with details. "My understanding is that he's a neutral. Not a demon, not a human. He's … I guess he's sort of like a counterweight. He doesn't pull for one side or the other."_

"_Could you vague that up maybe?" Faith's voice was slightly cross. She turned fully and gave Robin a good look at her half naked body. He didn't fall for it however. _

"_Babe, I don't know what else to tell you. I don't even know if Giles has the full scoop on him." The Watcher shrugged and turned back to the open suitcase hunting for a pair of socks that Faith hadn't stolen from him. He started pulling them on. "For the rest, your guess is as good as mine."_

Her door was only a few steps away after all. Faith glances at her watch. It's only 10 PM. She had tried to locate her cell phone earlier to call Taryn in Cleveland but couldn't find it. To her it felt a lot earlier but she was 6 hours behind. _Buffy isn't though. Rome is like an hour ahead. Fuck it._ The Slayer slips back through the sliding door quietly and sees that Robin is snoring gently in the bed. She slinks past and goes out into the hallway. She heads down the dimly lit corridor and stops in front of the heavy oak doors of Buffy and Dawn's room. She taps lightly with her nails, almost cringing at the reptilian sound of them on the bare wood. She senses more than hears footsteps coming to the door and it opens to reveal Buffy still fully dressed and with slightly red eyes. The blond Slayer looks at her and then motions her in wordlessly. The other Slayer's room is more of an apartment then a spare room and has its own sitting room. Dawn is sleeping on the low sofa, her face buried deep in the pillow, muffling her snores. Faith stifles a grin and Buffy motions her toward the open door of the bedroom. The two Slayers move inside and Buffy closes the door behind her. She sits on the bed and Faith sees the crumpled tissues next to the waste basket that the other Slayer hadn't quite reached after blowing her nose or whatever she'd been doing. Faith sits in a low chair across from her and surveys the lush room with a small pang of jealousy. The carpets are lush and thick and the moldings are obviously hand carved. "Nice digs B."

Buffy gives her a wan smile and pushes a stray lock of her hair back. "Friends in high places I guess." She had meant it to sound humorous but her voice was weak and plaintive.

"Must be rough," Faith replies lightly. She's aghast however when Buffy suddenly breaks down and starts weeping in front of her. The dark-haired Slayer gets up and moves to the bed, awkwardly wrapping an arm around the other girl as Buffy buries her head in Faith's neck and sobs hard. "Hey," Faith tries to comfort her but is uncertain of what else to say. After a moment Buffy gets her control back and wipes her cheeks with a shamefaced grin.

"Sorry. Girl moment. I'm all good now. What's up?"

Faith ponders this. Why exactly had she come here? Angel. She wants to tell Buffy everything about what she had seen in Angel's memory but figures the other Slayer really didn't need that kind of emotional hit right now. She decides to be diplomatic instead. "Well, I figured you'd be a little thrown. The whole 'Spike's alive' thing had to be a bit of a toss for ya'."

"You're not wrong," Buffy grumbles quietly and casts a look at the wastebasket. "It was a little bit of a shock to say the least."

Faith shifts uncomfortably, not sure of what to say next. She's never been big on the girl talk. Finally she clears her throat. "Maybe its okay to cy about some stuff B. Maybe that's how we finish things sometimes." She searches for more words, trying to figure it out even as she speaks. "Maybe it's about making things clean. I guess tears are sorta the way our brain lets things go sometimes."

"Maybe," Buffy coughs lightly to get the lump out of her throat. "I guess we all need to clear out the crap in our heads once in a while."

Faith traces a small line in the carpet with her big toe. Her sock has a hole in it where her nail has sliced the fabric. "What's the deal with this Tim guy?" she asks as casually as she can.

Buffy sighs and shrugs irritably. "Shit, I don't know. He's great really." Buffy hesitates but continues despite herself. "We met while Dawn and I were searching for an apartment. He knew a guy and well," she shrugs again. "He got us a place and we sort of …" she trails off. Faith lets her leave it at that and sighs.

"Fuckin' guys," she gives the other Slayer a wry grin. "You know, before I met Robin I used to think that there was no way I'd ever find a decent guy. It was like I thought I didn't deserve one I guess. Most of the guys I ran with thought 'hey, does this rag smell like chloroform?' was a great pick-up line."

"Tell me about it," Buffy snorts. "I'm not exactly the poster girl for sane relationships if you hadn't noticed."

"Riley was a bit of alright though," Faith says absently, then cringes inwardly. The memory of her own "experience" with Riley was probably still a sore spot with Buffy. "I mean, he was pretty of the normal, wasn't he?"

Buffy gives Faith a sardonic look and then leans back on her arms on the edge of the bed. "Sure, if being a commando in a secret demon-fighting branch of the military and being juiced up by a crazy professor counts as normal."

"You know what I mean," Faith says quietly.

"Yeah," Buffy sighs again and then sits back up. "I suppose I do."

"So what do you think?" Faith asks, taking out her cigarettes and lighting one. She blows out a cloud of smoke and gazes at the other Slayer over the waft of it. "About Spike and Angel helping?"

"I think I need to sleep on it," Buffy stretches and gives Faith's cigarette a sour look which the other Slayer ignores. She then gives Faith a quizzical look. "And why are you so sure it's a good idea? Something to do with that brain tour you took with Angel last year?"

"Something like that," Faith says and takes another drag on her cigarette. "What makes you think it's a bad idea?"

"I don't know," Buffy gets to her feet and moves over to the window, gazing out at the London night. Her own reflection looks tired and wan in the double paned glass. "It's hard to keep my feelings separate from the facts I guess and with Spike in the mix," she shrugs again bitterly. "I guess it's just me trying to figure out how I feel about them."

"Them?" Faith cocks her head to the side and makes a rude gesture with her hand.

"Not like that," Buffy turns and this time she grins. "Pervert."

"Tell me you haven't thought about it." Faith replies with a grin of her own.

"Well there was this one time, and there was oil," Buffy muses and then breaks off embarrassed. "Okay skankorama, time for you to take your one-track gutter back to your room."

"Fair enough." Faith looks around and sees an empty soda can on the dresser. She drops her cigarette into it and lets Buffy walk her to the door. "See ya tomorrow I guess."

"Sure," Buffy hesitates for a second. "Faith?"

"Yeah?" the brunette Slayer turns and looks back.

"Thanks."

**16**

**London, England – May 8th 2004**

Willow lays back on the bedspread, her mind churning over the events of the day. It was a lot to take in and she had been glad when Buffy and Dawn had begged off her and Kennedy's invitation to a late supper claiming they were too tired. Willow had the impression that Buffy needed some alone time to deal with the news of Spike still being alive and in truth, she needed to figure some things out as well.

When the gang had arrived in San Francisco after Sunnydale had been destroyed, they had all taken some time to regroup. For Buffy and Dawn there had been a frenzy of expeditions to the mall with the insurance money from the house. Willow and Kennedy had taken a quick trip to the East Coast to Kennedy's parent's summer home in the Hamptons. A few days of walking the late spring beaches of Long Island had put a few things in perspective and when they had arrived back in San Francisco the group had started to make their plans. Now it was a year later and it seemed that everything they had done and accomplished over the past 12 months was all just an interlude.

Kennedy comes out of the bathroom, a white terrycloth robe covering her still shower fresh form and a large fluffy towel wrapped turban like over her dark hair. She gives Willow a sweet smile and plops down on the bed beside her. Willow instinctively reaches for the Slayer's hand and she rolls over on her stomach to look at her girlfriend directly.

"See something green?" Kennedy asks lightly, a little flushed and flattered by her girlfriend's obvious pleasure at seeing her even though she'd only gotten in the shower 20 minutes ago.

"Just thinking," Willow replies and worms over the bed slightly to rest her head on Kennedy's lap. The Slayer strokes Willow's long red tresses and gets a kittenish sigh of pleasure in response. "You know, it's been great this past year hasn't it?"

"The best," Kennedy affirms, now running a thumb along the curve of Willow's neck. She leans down and is rewarded with a soft kiss.

Willow seems to hesitate for a moment and then turns over, removing her head from the Slayer's lap, and lies on her side, her head supported by one arm and looks at Kennedy wistfully. "After Tara died I went a little nuts," Kennedy's stomach tightens a little at the mention of Tara's name. One of her deepest insecurities was the thought that Willow secretly was constantly comparing her to her dead lover and that she could never meet those expectations. Willow doesn't seem to notice however and continues. "There was a part of me that I thought died with her that day. There were feelings and dreams that I thought I could never have again and I guess that was sorta true."

Kennedy flinches noticeably at that but Willow takes her hand again gently and kisses it. "Let me finish. What I had with Tara, I never had that with anyone else. She knew me in ways that I didn't think were possible. But after," she gives Kennedy a beautiful tiny smile, "After I met you. The way you looked at me and the way you trusted me, even after-" she pauses and Kennedy brings Willow's hand up to her own mouth and kisses her palm. Willow's smile broadens. "I'll never forget Tara. Not ever. But loving you is something else, something wonderful. I don't tell you that enough."

Kennedy feels the lump that had been rising in the back of her throat nearly choke her and she bends down to kiss the witch. Their lips meet gently at first but soon Willow's mouth opens to her and Kennedy slides her body down, her hands first finding the long mane of Willow's hair and then sliding down to caress her bare arms and shoulders. Willow gives a little moan into Kennedy's mouth and slides her own hands along her girlfriend's neck and then down inside the robe, the feeling of her fingers running along the Latina's hot honey colored flesh causing her own skin to prickle with excitement. Kennedy starts to shrug off her robe when a low knock comes at the door to their room.

Willow curses under her breath and starts to rise but Kennedy pushes her back down and nuzzles her neck. "Ignore it," she whispers against the witch's tingling flesh. The knock comes again however, this time followed by Xander's low voice.

"Will? You awake?"

Willow groans and pushes Kennedy off of her. The Slayer mutters something in Spanish that sounds mildly obscene and then pulls her robe closed and gets up to go back to the bathroom. Willow shakes her head and then gets up to answer the door. She opens it to see Xander standing at the entrance, still fully dressed with a bottle of wine and glasses perched on a tray. "Hey," he says quietly, giving her a sheepish smile. "You busy?"

"Not anymore," Kennedy says archly, sweeping out of the washroom again with a brush and sits on the bed in front of the mirror, her hair no longer wrapped in the towel but damp against her neck. She gives Xander a sour smile and starts brushing her hair.

"Oh," Xander replies, a bit startled. He looks at Willow's flushed cheeks and notes the aggressive way that Kennedy seems to be brushing out her hair. "Oh," he says again, this time with a tone of understanding and embarrassment. "Hey, look, if I'm interrupting anything I can go. I mean-"

"Don't sweat it," Willow tells him, almost half meaning it. "What's up?"

"Well, I'd just thought that, you know, since we haven't seen each other in a while we should," he pauses again uncertainly. "You know, this is a bad time. We'll get caught up another time."

"Don't be a dork," Willow tells him and opens the door wider. She turns and gives Kennedy an apologetic glance and the Slayer purses her lips slightly and then smiles.

"Yeah come on in Xander. It's good to see you and we should catch up."

"Well if you're sure-" Xander still seems uncertain.

"Oh stop being so friggin' polite and come in already or I'm shutting that door and jumping my girlfriend," Kennedy says in mock exasperation but gives the carpenter a grin.

"Right," Xander grins back and comes inside. He sets the tray down on the small writing desk in the corner and fishes in his pocket for a corkscrew. He opens the bottle of merlot and pours three glasses, handing one to each of his hosts before taking the last one for himself. He sits down in the chair at the desk and Willow and Kennedy both take seats on the edge of the bed. "Well, here's to us," he says somewhat lamely. "The Scooby Gang."

The three of them all raise their glasses and take a sip. Willow is studying Xander carefully, not sure why he seems to be so edgy. "So did you come all this way just to get us drunk or were we gonna talk?" She asks him lightly.

Xander doesn't reply immediately and Willow frowns and gets to her feet. She takes the glass from Xander's hand and then immediately plops down on his lap. She lifts his chin with her finger and gives him a small frown. "No pouting aloud," she tells him with mock gravitas.

"Sorry," he grins at her sheepishly and brushes a stray hair from her cheek with his hand. "I guess it just sort of hit me hard today, all of us here and together. I-" he gives a frustrated little shrug and sighs. "I guess when I was in Africa, searching around and trying not to get eaten by lions, a lot of stuff just didn't seem so real. Now we're back and everything and there's all these plans and people taking on responsibilities and I sorta feel as useful as a burger stand at a vegan rally."

"Oh come on," Willow says with mild amusement. "You're the one that found this for us Xander. You're the reason we're all here for Pete's sake."

"Yeah, I know," Xander says with a wry smile. He picks up his glass and takes a sip. "I guess I just didn't expect everything to be so different now. Buffy's shacked up with some old guy who may or may not be evil … okay, that part's not different, but here's you, Deputy Head of the Watcher's Council and Faith and Robin are guarding the Hellmouth in Cleveland and training Slayers and even Andrew seems like he's got this whole new gig and what the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Horseshit," Kennedy snorts from her seat on the bed and both Willow and Xander give her a surprised look. "You have friends that love you, the respect of the entire Council, hell, even the girls we're training down in Brazil can't hear enough about you."

"Really?" Xander perks up almost immediately and leans forward, almost spilling Willow onto the floor. The witch gets up and gets her wine glass before taking a seat back on the bed next to Kennedy. "They ask about me?"

Kennedy laughs and finishes off her wine. "Oh yeah," she gives him a sidelong grin. "Willow was showing them all some pictures from Sunnydale and the girls were all going gaga over the tall man with the rugged good looks."

"Yeah," Willow grins and scrunches her lips. "And some of them even left off looking at Riley and asked about you."

"Gee thanks Will," Xander replies but there is humor in his voice now and he seems pleased.

"Hey, that's what I'm here for," she tells him and then points at the door. "Now if we're done with the ego stroking, get the heck out of my room so I can get some sleep."

"Gotcha," Xander gets up and heads for the door. Willow follows him and as he's about to leave he turns suddenly. "Will?"

She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly before letting go and touching his cheek with her fingers. "You're welcome."

**17**

**Cleveland Ohio – May 12th, 2004**

Taryn begins to swim out of the fog of unconsciousness feeling distinctly like a large hammer made of Silly-Putty is trying to split her skull open and it causes her to groan. Her throat and mouth feel gummy and she swallows painfully a few times before attempting to open her eyes. The overhead fluorescents flicker painfully in her vision and she blinks a few times, trying to piece together where she was. The last thing she can remember was being inside a warehouse near Browns Stadium.

The Slayer turns her head slightly, a wave of nausea running through her and causing her to shudder and close her eyes tightly for a moment. She slowly opens them again and sees that she is what appears to be some sort of medical infirmary. She attempts to sit up but realizes that there are thick leather straps with banded metal running through them securing her firmly to the bed she is lying on. Taryn tries to focus her thoughts but she still feels extremely woozy and muddled. After a moment she decides that she must be drugged somehow. She turns her head again, this time trying to examine her arm. In her left forearm between the straps securing her wrist and elbow she spots the IV needle. The Slayer grunts and once again tries to take in her surroundings. To her left there is a white linen curtain that seems to separate her from another bed. Past the foot of her bed is a low stainless steel table that has several clipboards and a few vials on it. To her right is an institutional looking cement wall painted white with a backlight for x-rays. Beside that is a heavy wooden door with a wire mesh embedded window. Taryn is about to try calling out to see if anyone is in the room when the door opens briskly and a short, bearded man in his mid to late 40's with a white laboratory coat enters, moving toward the table at the foot of her bed and picking up one of the clipboards to examine it.

"Where am I?" Taryn manages to croak and the bearded man looks up and sees that she is awake. He gives her a smile that seems far too broad to be genuine.

"Well hello. I see that you're awake." He walks away from the table and past the edge of the white curtain and out of her line of sight. He returns a moment later with a large plastic squeeze bottle that has a long flexible straw on top. He offers it to her and Taryn sucks at it hungrily for a moment, feeling blessed cool water enter her parched mouth and throat. The man takes it away after a few seconds, giving her a friendly shake of his head. "Not too much too quickly dear. I'll give you some more in a moment."

"Where am I?" Taryn repeats, her voice much clearer now that she's had some liquid to soothe her dry tongue and throat.

"A private clinic," The man gives her another of his huge, phony smiles. "My name is Dr. Tanner. You were admitted several hours ago after being heavily gassed by a very potent tranquilizer. To be honest, I'm quite surprised that you are awake this soon. The dose you received would have been sufficient to kill most human adults." He narrows his gaze through his square spectacles and gives her a wry grin. "But you aren't all that normal are you?"

Alarm bells start in the back of Taryn's mind but the fog of drugs and grogginess keep them muted and in the background. She snorts and uses one of her fingers to indicate the water bottle. Tanner nods and allows her another drink before taking it away. He then pulls a small penlight from his pocket and shines it in both her eyes causing Taryn to wince before replacing it in his breast pocket and then picking up her chart again to make a note. "Where are Kara and Angela?" Taryn manages after a moment of thought. She knows that something very bad is taking place but for some reason she just can't manage to make it seem important or relevant.

"Sleeping," Dr. Tanner replies before coming over and squinting at the IV drip above her. He taps the tube a couple of times with his pen and then makes a small adjustment to the drip. Almost immediately Taryn feels herself become more lightheaded. The acoustical tile above her swims out of focus for a moment and she loses all feeling in her extremities. "What do you want with me?" she hears her voice ask but it sounds distant and unimportant.

"Myself?" Tanner's voice sounds remote too and Taryn finds it difficult to concentrate on his words. "Well personally I'd love to run about a thousand tests and find out some of the secrets of your marvelous immune and healing capabilities. I'd expect your metabolism and gland structure would be equally amazing. I'm a scientist first and foremost after all and from what Mr. Rayne has told me about you girls thus far, I must admit that I'd find it endlessly fascinating. Fortunately for you, Mr. Rayne wants you in one piece. For now at any rate," his face is difficult to keep in focus now and Taryn's mind seems to want to float away on all these whimsical trips. An hour ago _(or was it just a few seconds?) _she'd found herself being sucked up into one of the holes in the acoustical tile above her and exploring the dark. She shakes her head slightly to try and clear the cobwebs that seem to have enveloped her mind and attempts to process what the doctor had just told her. One word seems to stand out.

"Rayne? Where is he?"

"Gone back to headquarters I'd imagine," Tanner replies in an offhand tone. He takes out a syringe and injects it into her IV. Taryn feels the world falling away to blackness and hears the doctor's voice coming from what seems to be a great distance. "You'll be seeing him soon enough."


	9. Chapter 18

**18**

**London - May 20th, 2004 **

The initial meeting of the Los Angeles delegation with Buffy in the underground parking area at Watcher's Head Quarters had been strained to say the least. The low cement walls caused the van's diesel engine to echo as it pulled into a pre-marked slot near the elevators. Faith hopped out of the vehicle and nonchalantly reached back to pull open the sliding door on the side as the rest of them had gotten out quietly. Connor and Illyria had come out first, followed by Gunn who winced slightly at the pain in his still tender abdomen. Both Spike and Angel had hesitated, exchanging a brief look but Willow and Andrew interrupted by pushing past them unceremoniously and stepping out to the sidewalk.

"Hey," Angel said quietly, taking a hesitant step toward Buffy. The blonde Slayer stepped forward too and Angel flinched slightly at the anger in her eyes. She looked him up and down before punching him solidly in the face. The vampire's head had snapped back and he spun and gave her a furious look. "What the fuck was that for?"

"I can probably fill you in on that," Spike chirps from behind him and takes a step forward. "Some, myself included, would say it's for being an insufferable ponce; others might argue that it was a comment on that metro hairdo and low forehead you've been sporting for ages-" Spike's happy recitation of Angel's shortcomings was suddenly cut short as he too took a right cross from Buffy. The blonde vampire staggered slightly and then shot Buffy a reproachful look. "Bloody hell, what was that for?"

"Neither of you," Buffy had said in a voice shaking with fury, her clenched fists white at her sides. "Neither of you thought for one second that I might want to know that Spike was still alive?"

"Oh," Spike mumbled. "Yeah, about that … see there was this thing in Angel's office and then I was a ghost but not a real one. Fred here, I mean Blue before she was Blue, see, she said I wasn't a ghost and then the phones all went crazy the one day and I walked into a door and," his rambling was cut off by another punch from Buffy. "Dammit, stop hitting me!"

"You didn't want to know," Angel growled at her, his own fury rising. Buffy turned back to him with an indignant look but Angel ignored it and took an angry step toward her. He stuck a finger into Buffy's chest and shouted, "You're the one that ran off to Rome! You're the one that didn't want anything to do with us! You're the one that wouldn't help when -" he jerked his thumb at Illyria, "we needed it! So now you want to act like you're the one who got shit on here? Well fuck you!" He finished with a barely coherent snarl of anger and turned to walk back toward the exit of the underground garage, apparently ready to leave.

"Dad," Connor stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. "Stop it okay? We're here. Let's hear what they have to say at least."

"Dad?" Buffy's blue eyes went wide with shock. "Did he just call you Dad?"

"Oh right," Willow interrupted anxiously. "Yeah there was this thing a few years ago and Angel got Darla pregnant and they had a kid, but it was mystical and there was this thing with a hell dimension," she rambles nervously. "But we all forgot because Angel had some shaman cast a spell that altered our reality and-", she left off when Faith had kicked her surreptitiously in the foot. "Right, not helping."

"So you just went and got a son and then had everyone's memory changed?" Buffy had given Angel a disgusted look. "What were you thinking?"

"And what's Dawn then?" Angel had shot back, equally angry. "A figment of my imagination?"

"She's my sister you sanctimonious son of a bitch!"

"And Connor is my son! He was falling apart at the seams and if I hadn't-"

"I'm standing right here for God's sake," Connor had said in exasperation.

The elevator ride up to Giles' office had been a quiet one. The LA group had moved to one side of the car with the Council members on the other. Faith stood between them oddly silent and dejected looking. Now they were all gathered in the opulent room, waiting for the Head Watcher to arrive. Angel stands near the fireplace, gazing into the low flames with his eyes glittering in the reflected light. Spike and Gunn, having discovered Giles bar at the far end of the room had poured drinks and were now sipping them while seated at the table with Buffy, Faith, Connor, Willow and Andrew. Illyria was looking around at the different tomes that lined Giles' office walls.

"Three?" Spike shakes his head in disbelief, nursing his somewhat tender jaw. "You just up and lost three Slayers and no one knew until a week ago?"

"Its part of the reason it took us so long to come to LA and fill you guys in," Willow tells him and shoots a pained look at a very quiet Faith. The Boston Slayer was examining her fingers which she had laced together on the tabletop with a stony look on her face. "We had an errand to run first that didn't go so well."

Spike just snorted at Willow's answer and shook his head. "Well isn't that bloody marvelous. A renegade Old One, missing Slayers and the Senior Partners probably turning over every stone from LA to Tokyo looking to make me, Angel, Blue, Connor and Charlie here into trophies on their boardroom wall. This day just keeps getting better and better."

"When is Giles coming?" Angel asks quietly from his place near the fire.

"I think that's him now actually," Willow says getting to her feet. From the anteroom there is the sound of voices and a moment later the large oak doors open. Giles and Robin come in, talking quietly about some news from Canada followed by…

"What the fuck is _he_ doing here?" Spike shouts, nearly choking on the sip of whiskey he'd just taken as he spots the Immortal coming in behind the two Watchers. His question is lost however as Angel moves so fast that it's almost a blur. With one deft movement he seizes Giles by the throat and slams him into the wall of the office.

"Angel!" Gunn, Willow and Buffy all shout as if in chorus. Faith reacts the fastest and leaps from her seat, grabbing Angel's arm and trying to wrench his iron grip from the Head Watcher's throat. Buffy and Connor are there within seconds and the three of them try to wrestle Angel off of the Watcher.

"You judgmental _fuck_!" The vampire is screaming at the struggling Watcher. It takes Buffy, Faith and Connor to manhandle him off as Giles sinks to the carpet, gasping for air and massaging his throat. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Buffy hauls off and punches him hard in the jaw again, snapping his head around. She swings again as he recovers but this time Angel blocks it and throws her into Faith, knocking both Slayers to the floor. Connor manages to keep a hold of his father's wrist long enough for the two to recover and seize him again. They each take an arm and rush him backward into a wall, knocking a small avalanche of books onto the carpeted floor.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Buffy shouts at him as he struggles mightily to get at the Watcher again. The rest of them have all now moved between the two parties except for Spike who is still sipping his drink and eyeing the Immortal coldly and Illyria who seems to not have even noticed. It finally turns and looks at the struggling vampire with mild interest.

"Is this human an enemy? Do we kill him now?" Illyria takes a purposeful step toward Giles but Spike now gets to his feet and interjects himself between them.

"Easy Blue. Angel just has a bone to pick with Nancy-boy here … as do I." He turns and gives Giles the same cold stare he'd been giving the Immortal. "Well Rupert," his voice is light and conversational but his eyes are locked on the Watcher with cold anger. "It would appear you have some explaining to do."

"Explain what?" Buffy nearly shouts, still struggling to hold back Angel. "What the hell is going on here Giles?"

"Will everyone just calm the fuck down for two seconds?" Faith shifts her grip on Angel and hip-tosses him to the floor and rolling with the throw and straddling him. The vampire struggles for a moment but then seems to deflate. The murderous rage on his face drains away to be replaced by a look of defeated sorrow. Faith gets up and extends a hand down toward him. After a moment he takes it and gets to his feet. Buffy is staring at the vampire with an appalled expression and a large group headed my Meghan are now gathered at the open doorway looking in with astonishment. Faith takes three strides toward the open doors and then slams them closed in their faces. She turns and takes a deep breath. "Okay, whatever is going on with you people, get over it. Sit!" she orders and after a moment everyone in the room except Illyria moves toward the large table and takes a seat.

"Now will someone tell me what the fuck this is all about?" Buffy says quietly from her seat next to the Immortal who has remained silent throughout all of the carnage.

"Ask him," Angel says in a low voice, still looking sullen and exhausted. He jerks a thumb at the Watcher and nearly spits out the next words. "Ask him why he let Fred die."

"What?" Buffy turns to look at Giles who is still massaging his throat. The Head Watcher glances at her and then looks quickly away. "Giles? What is he talking about?"

"Me," Illyria's cold voice comes from across the room. She has started to examine the books again and after a moment turns her cold, pale eyes toward the group. "My essence infected the shell several months ago and it led to death for the host entity, Winifred Burkle. Angel tried to receive help from your Council. He was told it wasn't to be forthcoming." Illyria tilts her head to the side slightly. "Not that it would have changed anything. Winifred was destroyed. Nothing could have changed that."

Buffy sits silently for a moment and turns to look at the Head Watcher who is still silent at his seat at the head of the table. "You did what?"

"I did what I thought was best," Giles replies in a strained voice. There are large mottled bruises starting to spread across his throat where Angel had throttled him. "We did not know what side Angel was on. It seemed," he clears his throat carefully and winces slightly at the obvious discomfort it causes him. "It seemed the best thing at the time," he finishes simply.

"Angel," Faith cuts in with a warning tone. The vampire has started to get to his feet again, the look of murderous fury starting to rise back into his eyes. He looks at her and she shakes her head. "Let him finish. You'll get your innings." He settles back down in the chair slowly and Faith turns her gaze to Giles. "Okay Giles, you had a good reason for this right? I mean, you wouldn't just let a friend get hollowed out like a pumpkin and die for no reason other then some judgmental bullshit right?" Her own dark eyes are coldly angry now as well. "Because if you did, Angel's not the only one that's gonna be pissed."

"Oh, stop this self-righteous crap right now," Giles says loudly, banging his fist on the desk hard. "Angel had taken up residence in the most notorious institution of evil in the Western Hemisphere as its leader. We had clear data from Andrew, as well as several other reliable sources, that his intentions and motivations were hazy at best. When he called I had no idea of the scope of what had happened and all he did was shout and rage that he needed Willow to come and resurrect one of his dead staff. What the hell was I supposed to do? I might add that we did look into it but by the time we had a chance to evaluate the situation properly it was apparent that nothing could be done. So we did exactly what we could. Nothing!" Giles pauses, breathing hard and wincing again from the pain in his bruised throat. "What was I supposed to do? Send a fruit basket?"

"You could have told me!" Buffy shouts, looking angry and very near tears.

"Told you what?" Giles counters hotly. "What on earth was I supposed to tell you? Buffy, your judgment has never been impartial when it comes to Angel and we thought it best that-"

"You didn't think at all!" She nearly screams at him in return. She puts her hands over her face and takes a few deep breaths. "This is how we always screw stuff up. No one tells anyone what they need to know because everyone is so friggin' sure that they're right that they don't bother thinking about the consequences if they're wrong." She lowers her hands and her eyes are now streaming with tears. "All of this _shit_ was supposed to be over now. When we decided to reform the Council last year the idea was to get rid of all the bullshit influence peddling and information hording that the old Council used to love so much. _We_ are supposed to be the good guys, dammit!"

"We _are_ the good guys Buffy," Willow interjects quietly. She holds up a hand to cut off an angry reply that Angel seems to be about to make. "Angel, we're sorry about Fred. Honestly, we didn't want things to happen this way. Giles is right about one thing. There is nothing I could have done. From what I understand you say her soul was destroyed?" Angel nods fractionally and Willow shakes her head sadly. "Then I couldn't have done anything. None of us could." She reaches out and puts her hand on Angel's tentatively. "I liked Fred too," she tells him quietly.

"So it's unanimous," Gunn interjects tiredly. "What happened to Fred sucks and we can't change it." Gunn shakes his head at Angel as the vampire shoots him an angry look. "It's time to let it go boss. We're never gonna get anywhere if we all keep screaming at each other and pointing fingers. From what I understand we have a whole heap of new problems now right?" He looks askance at Willow and the witch nods vigorously. "Then let's save it for now and get on with gettin' on. Fair enough?"

"Well said Charlie," Spike taps the table with his knuckles. "Now we're done with the face-punching too right?"

Despite herself, Buffy is forced to stifle a grin and gives Spike a wry look. "For now."

"Excellent. Now let's order up the bloody agenda and talk about this. What's next?"

"Africa," Andrew says quietly.


End file.
